Nor Bid the Stars Farewell
by Geekdom is Wisdom
Summary: Bitter words and senseless arguments lead Aragorn to the most difficult choice he has ever faced; between his people and his dearest friend. Alliances and kingly responsibilities become too much for him to bear as an unexpected foe emerges from his past and threatens to destroy everything he holds dear. Rated M for violence.
1. Chapter 1) The White City

___Inspired by the work of Legolass Q, including but not limited to the splendid 'For the Love of the Lord of the White Tree'_

_An Miluiel – guren glassui_

_(For Emily – thank you from my heart)_

CHAPTER 1. THE WHITE CITY

_Legolas watched the trees fly past him, the leaf-strewn forest floor a blur beneath his feet. The sounds of the Entwash flowing mingled with the constant, subtle hum of the Ents that had abided there since ancient times. The air was thick and humid, but the Elf was not discouraged: the forest pulsed with the welcoming energy of hundreds of creatures, hidden and unseen by even the keenest of elvish eyes._

_He had reached the center of the forest now. The branches grew thicker here, the trunks closer together, little light penetrating the leaves above him. Legolas could feel the trees around him in a way he had never experienced before. They whispered to him, speaking tales of days long passed-_

Legolas awoke sharply, thrown from his dreams by a noise outside his window. He sat bolt upright, his body tense as his sharp sapphire eyes scanned the room for signs of intruders. It took him a moment to realize there was no disturbance: he was still becoming accustomed once more with the idea of 'safety'.

The sounds of cheering and applause echoed out over the city of Minas Tirith, an exuberant sound the like of which could not be recalled in living memory by any Men of Gondor. The noise from the joyful celebrations carried up to the White Tower, where Legolas rested in his quarters which he had called home since the War of the Ring had ended some weeks ago.

Legolas could not bring himself to leave Minas Tirith once the battles had ended and the troops returned home. There were many ongoing celebrations to be had, tales to be told and be heard, and as a member of the original fellowship, the people of Gondor almost demanded his presence among them.

Yet his dreams were recurring, and none told of the tales of the city. No, his unconscious thoughts had been fixated for some time on a promise he had made to himself long ago - to revisit the Fangorn Forest. What with the rebuilding of the city and the settling of post-war matters, the opportunity had not yet arisen for him to complete the journey. _But soon_, Legolas assured himself, _soon I will be enabled to complete the vow I so surely made, in a time that now seems centuries ago._

Bounding nimbly from his bed, he peered out of the window at the great city before him. As an Elf, Legolas had never thought he would find beauty in works of stone such as this, but after living temporarily in the White City he had changed his mind. Towers of white stone soared gracefully up to meet the pale-blue sky, and the walls of the city merged alongside rocky mountain slopes to form a perfect balance of nature, and the lasting testaments of Men.

"Finally up, are you?" growled a husky voice, as the door swung open with a clatter. "About time, too."

"Ah, Gimli. I thought as much." Legolas replied with a slight smile, as the Dwarf welcomed himself into the room. "Few others would have the nerve to burst into a prince's quarters unannounced, and without permission."

"So I need permission now, do I, my little Elvish princeling?" Gimli questioned, helping himself to the bowl of fruit on the mantelpiece.

"Of course not. Such rules do not apply to friends. If they did, by now you have certainly crossed the line of what is acceptable." mused Legolas, finally turning away from the window. "What is on the agenda for today?"

"Nothing, as of yet." Gimli replied, through a mouthful of apple. "I suppose Aragorn has his own plans for us."

"Elessar." Legolas corrected him. "He does not answer to the name of 'Aragorn' any longer."

"Old habits cannot be broken in the space of a mere few weeks." Gimli retorted, gulping down the last chunk of apple before stumbling towards the door and gesturing for Legolas to follow. "In any case, I do not think names and terms are an issue that has even crossed his mind."

"I agree entirely." Legolas replied, following the dwarf down the staircase to Aragorn's chambers. "I admit, I feel pity for him at the moment: there is still so much to be done, and he must lead the rebuild of an entire kingdom. It is not a light burden."

"No one could possibly be more capable of such a deed." Gimli pointed out, evidently unconcerned, but Legolas was uncomforted by his words.

"_Mae govannen_." greeted a familiar voice as the duo reached the main hall. Arwen appeared at the base of the spiral stairs, smiling warmly and dressed as elegantly as any queen, be they Elf or mortal.

"_Mae govannen."_ Legolas replied, returning the Sindarin greeting, whilst Gimli settled with his usual brusque "Hello" in the Common Tongue. Arwen laughed lightly at that, before wordlessly leading them into the king's counseling chambers, where Aragorn sat in counsel with his Chief Steward.

"Ah, my friends, enter!" he said warmly, spotting them at the doorway and beckoning them into the room. "Faramir and I were just discussing the reconstruction of the city gates."

The dark-haired man nodded respectfully in welcome, smiling warmly at Legolas and Gimli. Being the king's highest ranking Steward meant that he spent a lot of time with Aragorn, and by extension, with his comrades. In recent weeks, Legolas had become quite fond of the man, despite his strained relationship with his late brother. Yet even now, he was instantly reminded of Boromir, to whom he bore so much resemblance. He shook away the thought - Faramir was far gentler, kinder, and in Legolas' opinion, far more admirable than his late brother had been.

"I will leave you three to yourselves." he stated, standing and turning to the king. "My lord, with your leave?"

"Of course, of course." Aragorn said, nodding, and the Steward exited the chamber, before Aragorn turned back to face Legolas and Gimli. "Let us walk. The morning is as good as any - we may as well appreciate it."

Aragorn led the way from the hall to one of the nearby courtyards, where the morning sun shone done upon the white stone in a bright, cheerful manner. The city-dwellers could be seen down below, going about their day-to-day business with an air of euphoria.

"They are happy." Legolas observed, his sapphire eyes watching the movement below keenly. "They rejoice, even after all these weeks!"

"I do not wish to dishearten any by reminding them that we have much to rebuild before the city returns to its former glory." Aragorn stated softly, glancing out towards where the Great Gate stood, still in rubble from its destruction at the hands of the orcs. "And yet, I cannot blame them for their joy. Long have they suffered at the hands of Sauron, and the demise of his kingdom should be celebrated by all."

"Including you, I see." Gimli added, peering up at Aragorn's face.

Aragorn gave a small, slightly guilty smile.

It was true: he was far happier than Legolas had ever seen him before. His grey eyes shone with an irrepressible energy and enthusiasm. His once stern, pale features were now relaxed and joyful, and what with his royal attire and the noble blood that ran through his veins, he looked every bit the king he was.

Legolas was glad for his happiness, whatever the cause, for all had not been well for the king since the war had ended. Aragorn had a lot of weight resting on his shoulders, responsibility such as he had never had to experience before. He was constantly having to give counsel, settle matters amongst the people in his government, or else make public appearances in the city to show that all was well.

These duties, though they were performed without reproach, often angered or frustrated him, and Legolas had been the victim of many an unprovoked verbal attack due to this. Undue blame and criticism was often directed at him, but Legolas could not bring himself to argue with Aragorn, nor to make him accountable for it.

Even so, his mind flickered back to an incident recently during a visit with the king to the southern provinces of Gondor, in which the Elf had been accused of things particularly unjustly. Amongst them was a comment the king had shouted in anger, which had rung in the mind of the Elf in every waking hour since:

"You are naught but a hindrance here; go back to your own people, and burden them with your stupidity."

Even as he thought his, he felt a bitterness well up in the pit of his stomach. _He is exceptionally busy, and there was much responsibility on his shoulders that day and every other, _Legolas reasoned to himself. _Any irritability from him was understandable. _But even such logical reason could never entirely destroy the seed of doubt, once it had been implanted into a friendship already burdened by the complex lives of its participants.

"How could I possibly mask such joy as I feel?" Aragorn asked, snapping Legolas out of his thoughts. "The dark days are over, at last. And..."

"Yes?" Gimli questioned impatiently, never being one for subtle conversing.

"No, I shall not tell you." Aragorn decided, with a smirk. "It shall wait a while longer."

"What shall wait-" Gimli began angrily, frustrated at Aragorn for withholding information from them. Legolas too was curious, but he trusted Aragorn's judgement, and cut off the Dwarf's accusatory questioning with his own query: "So, what plans have you today for a loyal duo of Eld and Dwarf?"

"I expect nothing from you." Aragorn replied instantly. "I have no right to demand your service. I am not your king."

"You are as good as." Legolas retorted, just as surely.

"I am inexplicably happy to hear such words from you." Aragorn said, turning away from him and staring out over the city. "Yet you have done plenty for me and my people already. More than plenty."

The elf's bright blue eyes flashed angrily.

"Surely there is some assistance we can offer." he said forcefully. "There is still so very much to do."

"I will not deny, your presence here is more than welcome." Aragorn said, more warmly this time. "Arwen and I are glad that you have stayed for these last few weeks. I just do not wish for you to feel bound to Gondor. You have both done so much in the war, and you are more than deserving of a break from duty."

"You have done just as much in this war, if not more." Gimli scoffed. "And yet I see you doing work fit for ten men!"

Aragorn smiled gently. "It is a pleasure for a king to serve his people, no matter how large the task. And if the work of ten men must be done by one in order to maintain his kingdom's peace, then it shall be performed without the slightest of grudges."

Legolas and Gimli had no comment to reply with, such was their awe at his statement. Both were privately thinking of how well Aragorn had adjusted to the role of king: neither the dwarf nor the elf would ever have expected such noble, well-spoken words from one who had once been a Ranger of the North.

"But are you not pleased with this?" Aragorn exclaimed, breaking the silence. "I was under the impression that you had made a pact to be completed, as soon as peace was restored. Legolas, I know of your yearning to visit the Fangorn Forest once again; your dreams are occupied by it, and no doubt many of your conscious thoughts, also."

Legolas shot Aragorn a perplexed look. Never had he mentioned to the king his desires to again see the ancient forests of the Ents, and yet Aragorn spoke of it with utmost certainty.

"The guards patrolling the White Tower have often spoke of your mutterings whilst you are asleep, and they always, I am informed, describe your desire to return there." Aragorn explained, somewhat sheepishly.

"Aragorn son of Arathorn, you have become stealthy in your manner of acquiring information!" Legolas replied, in a tone of mock disapproval.

"I meant not to pry." he said innocently. "But is it not true? Is this not your wish?"

"It is." Legolas admitted, unwillingly. "But only if you are certain that you do not, for now, require our services. And, of course, if my companion is also willing."

"I am entirely without doubt." said Aragorn immediately.

"And I, too, still wish to see the Glittering Caves, as was also planned." Gimli agreed.

"Then there shall be no further questioning." Aragorn declared firmly. "You shall prepare for your travels. Anything you may need will be supplied. You are free to complete your pact, as soon as you deem yourselves ready."

Gimli nodded firmly.

"I will prepare our supplies." he grunted. "The Elf can organize the horse. Animals do not appeal to me on the whole, but that beast of his is particularly uncontrollable."

"Never have you been in favor of Arod." Legolas said, shaking his head. "Yet I do not see why. Rarely in all my years have I found a steed as intelligent."

"The creature may be wiser than the Valar for all I care! I would just prefer not to feel like I am about to be thrown off its back when I am riding, if it is not too much to ask. But nevertheless, horses are far from my area of expertise, so I will put faith in your judgement in this occasion."

And with that the Dwarf hobbled off to the White Tower, watched on by an amused Aragorn.

Legolas gazed up at the king, the Elf's sparkling blue eyes meeting his warm brown ones.

"_Hannon le, _Aragorn." Legolas uttered quietly in his native language, his tone warm as he thanked his friend.

"It is no trouble." he replied humbly. "But I would appreciate if you and Gimli could join me for dinner this evening. Arwen and I have some exciting news, and she would be furious if she were not there when I told you, to see your reaction."

Legolas smiled with dawning understanding, and nodded. This news, he assumed, was what Aragorn had refused to tell Gimli and himself earlier (in spite of the Dwarf's eager questioning). As for what the news itself was, he was completely unaware.

"Well, you have much to prepare." Aragorn remarked finally.

"Yes, you are quite right." Legolas agreed quickly, nodding. "And again, Aragorn... thank you."

The king smiled gladly, and watched as his Elvish friend turned away and exited the courtyard.

Such was their eagerness that it took Gimli and Legolas only a few hours to prepare their things for the journey. They each readied a pack, in which they placed food for their travels, as well as some basic herbal medicines (in the unlikely case that they might need such items). They also packed clothing for all climates (the weather in the Fangorn Forest being rather unpredictable), including their cloaks of elven make that they had been given by Lady Galadriel at Lothlórien.

By the time their plans were finalized, it had grown into night, and Legolas bathed quickly before heading downstairs to the king's dining hall. Here he found Gimli, Arwen and Aragorn already seated, chatting pleasantly.

"Ah, Legolas, my friend, I thought you had abandoned us!" Aragorn laughed as he spotted the elf at the door. "Come, sit! We have much to discuss."

The four of them talked of Legolas and Gimli's plans over an informal dinner. Arwen was very curious about where they were visiting, being the only one who had never seen the Fangorn Forest or the Glittering Caves.

"Legolas, you have travelled through much of Middle Earth. What is it about the Fangorn Forest that makes you yearn to see it once more?" Arwen asked, puzzled. "I do not think I properly understand your desire."

"The Forest is unique. It has an ancient air about it; a sort of darkness and mystery, quite unlike anywhere else I have travelled." explained Legolas thoughtfully. "In a way, it reminds me of Mirkwood. Travelers often find the forests of my homeland dark and foreboding - but we of Elven kind know that the secrets of the trees are not to be feared. The Fangorn Forest is alike it, in that sense."

"It sounds intriguing." Arwen said in awe.

"Intriguing? The Forest is nothing compared to the Glittering Caves, I assure you!" Gimli scoffed. "Filled with precious jewels, it is, and more _mithril_ than all the dwarves in Middle Earth could ever mine!"

"I will approach these Caves with an open mind, but I do not see how they could even compare to the Fangorn Forest." Legolas disagreed, shaking his head in disregard.

"You Elves are too absorbed with your trees to see the beauty of the _mountains_!" boomed Gimli fiercely.

"It is not merely trees that draw me back, dear Gimli." Legolas said, laughing softly. "How about the Ents?"

"The Ents are impressive folk." admitted the dwarf unwillingly. "Huge, towering tree-folk, slow and steadier even than hobbits in their progression!"

"They sound like something to behold!" Arwen marveled. "It is a pity indeed that their numbers are dwindling; soon they truly will be no more than the creatures of legend."

"Our histories are doomed to be lost in the veil of time. Tales have been and will be forgotten that ought never to have been." Legolas shrugged. "Such is the way of the world."

"Never a truer word has been spoken. Try as we might to preserve our histories, they do have a tendency of slipping through the cracks of living memory. But, though you speak naught but the truth, let us tarry no longer over such forlorn matters." Aragorn requested. "For we have joyful news that should be heard by two such close friends before they set out on their journey."

Arwen's face lit up, and Aragorn mirrored her beaming smile.

"Under ideal circumstances, we would have liked to have the others here - but the hobbits were eager to return to the Shire, and Gandalf is hard enough to keep in one place at the best of times, let alone when there is so much to be done in restoration." Arwen explained. "They will hear soon enough, no doubt, as news travels fast. But seeing as you two may be gone for some weeks..."

She gazed across at Aragorn, who nodded, smiling.

"Arwen is with child." he stated happily. "We are having a baby."


	2. Chapter 2) Disclosure and Departure

CHAPTER 2. DISCLOSURE AND DEPARTURE

Legolas' eyes widened in surprise, before he smiled, eyes sparkling with elation.

"Congratulations!" he said instantly, causing Arwen and Aragorn to beam even more joyously.

"My congratulations to you both, but, if I may say so... this is unexpected." Gimli commented in his gruff tone.

"Somewhat." agreed Arwen, laughing. "But we thought - we are at peace! Why wait?"

"Why indeed?" agreed the dwarf in a booming, amused voice.

"So now you see, Gimli, why I was forced to withhold such news from you this morning. I would have had to face Arwen's wrath, a thing even the most courageous of warriors would tremble to confront." Aragorn explained, a smile creeping onto his lips.

Arwen gave her husband a look of feigned severity, before laughing along with the others.

"You, Arwen, will be the most nurturing mother in all of Middle Earth." Legolas declared, causing a blush to creep onto her pale skin.

"And with a Ranger of the North and a King of Gondor for a father, the child will be able to wield a sword before they can walk." Gimli added. Aragorn tilted back his head and laughed to the ceiling, an exuberant sound that buzzed warmly about the room.

"They'll need to have their wits about them, if the Elf is about, the sly tree-dweller." said Gimli, taking the opportunity to provoke him.

"They won't need wit to deal with you, though, Gimli, I wouldn't expect." Legolas teased. "The most intellectual conversation you'll ever get out of a dwarf is about the theory of metalwork and welding."

"And a fine theory it is." Gimli boomed proudly, the gibe going unnoticed.

"As much as I would enjoy to hear your accounts on Dwarfish culture, Gimli, I think that you and Legolas should retire." Aragorn interjected, cutting across the conversation and standing up. "We were so distracted by our conversation that the time has gone quite unnoticed."

"A good point you make; we will need to be well-rested for out travels." Legolas agreed, following Aragorn' suit and getting to his feet, along with Gimli and Arwen.

"Rest well, my friends, and I can assure you I will be at the gates to see you off." Aragorn said, nodding towards the pair in acknowledgement.

"Thank you, once again, for your hospitality." Legolas returned graciously, nodding in turn at the king and queen.

"It is a pleasure to welcome friends into one's home." dismissed Arwen, leading the way towards the door. Legolas and Aragorn were the last to leave.

"And Aragorn," Legolas said, turning to the king and placing a hand on his shoulder. "once again, congratulations. You will be the very best of fathers."

"Thank you." Aragorn muttered quietly, gazing at the Elf with a look of warmth and gratefulness.

Legolas returned a small smile, before following Gimli's tracks upstairs to his quarters.

Gimli and Legolas were awake and alert at first light the next morning. They ate a quick breakfast in the White Tower before taking their packs down to the stables, where the horse Legolas had chosen the day previous was being held. He had chosen a steed built for strength, as opposed to speed; for they had no need to rush, and the terrain near the Glittering Caves was often steep and rocky.

Legolas had requested to borrow a saddle on this occasion, due to the fact that he would be riding with Gimli. Being an Elf, he usually rode bareback, but his friend was unaccustomed to riding as it was, and he thought it best not to overcomplicate matters. Whilst the stablehand fitted the saddle, observed curiously by Gimli, Legolas decided to head back to the White Tower. He had an idea that he wanted to discuss with Aragorn before he left.

"Ah, there you are." Legolas called out after searching the courtyards, only to find Aragorn standing in counsel with one of his stewards in the main hall. The steward slipped out sight as Legolas approached, leaving the pair to talk privately.

"Legolas! I thought you were preparing the horses." Aragorn said in surprise.

"Gimli is seeing to the final preparations." he replied dismissively. "But I wanted to ask something of you, before we leave."

"Of course, of course." Aragorn answered instantly. "What is it that you wish to ask?"

"You are, of course, familiar with the forests of Ithilien, on the easternmost province of Gondor. It was once a noble land, much the admiration of the Elves further north. However, the war saw much of it destroyed." Legolas explained. "The forest was one of the most spectacular in all of Middle Earth, in its day; as soon as Gimli and I return, I would like to begin restoring it to its former glory."

Aragorn frowned in confusion, shaking his head. "You want to do what, precisely?"

"I wish to replant and restore the forests in the Ithilien area, with the assistance of your people." Legolas repeated clearly.

"Legolas, is this really as urgent as you imply?" Aragorn said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"I am an _Elf_, Aragorn." he answered shortly. "I thought you knew enough of my kind to realize that we have a great respect and appreciation for nature. This _is_ an urgent matter."

"Yet I am a King of Gondor, and my people do not care as much for trees as for other matters which need to be resolved urgently. I am afraid I can be of no help to you." Aragorn replied smoothly.

"Ithilien is a province of Gondor, it is your responsibility to protect it!" demanded Legolas.

"Legolas, I do not have time for pursuing the welfare of _trees._" he said, slowly and almost mockingly.

"If not for the tree's sake, do it for the allegiance with the Elves." Legolas pleaded. "Showing that you have a predisposition and appreciation for the forests will provide a bond between races-"

"Please, Legolas, stop." he interrupted impatiently. "I have not the resources nor the time to be able to do this."

"But having the Elves as allies-"

"The Elves do not have the power and influence they once did." Aragorn snapped.

Legolas recoiled as if he had been struck, before narrowing his eyes dangerously.

"_What_ is that supposed to mean?" he said, in a voice that quaked with anger.

"The Elves are leaving Middle Earth, Legolas, sailing away from these shores for those of the Undying Lands. Few remain now, and those who do choose to hide away in their tree-colonies and ignore the quarrels of the outside world." Aragorn sighed. "Their allegiance is no longer of the value it once was."

"Are you suggesting that you refuse to restore the forests of Ithilien, purely because it bears you no benefit?" Legolas asked furiously. "I would never have expected such selfishness from you!"

"No, Legolas, I did not mean to suggest that-"

"But you did, Aragorn!" Legolas snarled. "You choose to insult my kin, and refuse me the one request I seek of you?"

"I refuse it, because the request is ridiculous!" Aragorn said heatedly.

"Whatever is the matter?" interrupted a concerned Arwen, appearing at the doorway and rushing towards them. "I heard raised voices."

She glanced across at Legolas, who did not reply. He was staring defiantly at Aragorn, straight-backed and formal.

"I thought that you would grant me this, as a favor between friends - but it appears that my friendship is no longer of enough _value _to you, King Elessar." he snapped, turning towards the door.

These words stabbed sharply at Aragorn's chest: Legolas never called him _Elessar_. It was a formal name, purely for use by officials, stewards and (it pained him to realize), strangers.

"Legolas, wait." Aragorn called out hastily.

The Elf froze, turning around with an expression of mingled fury and anguish.

"You may be a King of Gondor, but do not forget that I am a Prince of Mirkwood, and I will not allow my people to be insulted like this." Legolas said coldly, and with the speed and agility of the Elvish people, he was gone from the room.

Legolas entered the stables swiftly, and found Gimli in the final stages of their preparations.

"Are you ready?" he asked shortly, scanning the horse to ensure all was in order.

"Yes, I believe so." replied a bewildered Gimli, confused at Legolas' sudden haste. "The packs are secured, and the saddle is fitted - we shall be ready to ride off at dusk, as discussed."

"There has been a slight change of plan." the Elf contradicted, leaping onto the horse with uncanny ease and grace. "We are leaving now."

"What are you talking about?" Gimli grumbled, not moving an inch from where he stood.

"I wish to leave. _Now._" Legolas repeated, and such was the urgency and determination in his voice that the dwarf shuffled over and allowed himself to be hauled onto the saddle. As soon as he had gained his balance Legolas directed the horse forwards, and set off at speed through the city streets.

Both of the riders were well-known to the people of Minas Tirith, so they attracted far more attention than Legolas would have liked as they travelled to the city's edge. However they reached the gate that pointed westwards, towards their desired location of the Glittering Caves, with reasonable speed, and only slowed to allow the guards time to open the gates.

"Stop, stop! Legolas!" a voice suddenly shouted from behind them, which he immediately recognized as Arwen's. He could not very well ride off and ignore her, and so turned the horse around to face the queen.

"Arwen, what are you doing here?" he asked brusquely.

"I wanted to see you off, but you left with such haste that I had to run to follow." she answered, puffing slightly to regain her breath.

"Arwen, you are a _queen_, you cannot be seen chasing an elf on a horse through the streets!" Legolas hissed quietly.

"I wanted to see you off." she repeated obstinately.

Legolas sighed, in no mood to see the humor of the situation. "Very well. You have achieved your aim, then."

Arwen shook her head and approached their horse.

"Take care of him for me, Gimli." she requested of the Dwarf, gazing up at the unlikely pair. She stroked the Arod's coat absentmindedly, before stepping back a few paces, allowing Legolas to turn back around to face the western gate.

"And Legolas," Arwen added softly, with words that were meant only for his sharp Elvish hearing. "He meant not what he said. Aragorn would never disregard you or your kin, you know that."

Legolas bowed his head, hiding the mournful expression on his face from Gimli. He reared Arod into action.

The deafening clatter of horseshoes on cobblestone slowly faded away, watched carefully by a figure in the windows of the White Tower. But the horse did not break the canter, and as they disappeared from view, the King of Gondor slumped to the ground in defeat.


	3. Chapter 3) A Somber Traveller

CHAPTER 3. A SOMBER TRAVELLER

Arwen stormed back to the White Tower, ignoring the looks of shock and alarm on many faces at seeing their queen running in such an undignified manner through the streets. She glided up the stairs (even her raging temper not hindering her natural Elvish grace) and found Aragorn standing solemnly in their personal quarters.

"Estel, what was that?" she asked, using her husband's Elvish name but uttering it in an uncharacteristically brusque manner.

He merely shook his head slowly, gazing blankly out of the window at the city.

"Is it true, what Legolas said about you insulting his kin?" Arwen probed.

Aragorn grimaced, a look of pain flittering across his noble face.

"Yes." he murmured, ashamed. "I... yes."

Arwen pursed her lips impatiently.

"What did you say?" she urged, as though speaking to a small child.

Aragorn hesitated, before reluctantly replying. "I said that the allegiance of the Elves no longer meant as much as it once did. That they were a fading race, and no longer as much use to us as allies."

"Estel," Arwen quipped. "Did it not occur to you that, not only are they Legolas' people, but _my_ people, also? And your family's?"

The king gaped at her. "Arwen, I am so sorry, it did not even occur to-"

"It is not I to whom you owe your apologies." Arwen interrupted. "But unfortunately the one who does deserve it had left the city!"

Aragorn hung his head, and sat down upon the edge of the bed, his body language showing defeat.

"So he has truly left?" he said quietly.

"Of course he has, you saw him leave as well as I!" she replied hotly. "I do not blame him. He is a prince amongst his people, and you insulted them. He had every right to leave. And besides, you are lucky to have had his counsel, of late! Have you no idea of your friend's humility in recent weeks?"

Aragorn stared at his wife blankly.

"You have not exactly been easy to handle of recent. We all understand the strain you are under, of course," she added quickly, as Aragorn opened his mouth to protest. "But, perhaps unknowingly, you have placed much of your burden upon Legolas, though it was not his to bear."

The king shook his head. "Please, Arwen, do not speak in riddles: what have I done? Clearly I have been ignorant to this."

"Think back to your visit a few weeks back, to the southern provinces." she prompted slowly.

Aragorn paused momentarily, before his eyes widened as he recalled the situation.

_Faramir, Legolas and Aragorn were chatting quietly about their plans for the audience, when they arrived at the edge of the small city. Legolas was in high spirits, even more so than usual, for he had requested to accompany his friend in one of his exchanges, and had finally been permitted to do so. The people in the streets muttered as the King of Gondor's company rode forth through the town, though he noted that their whispering seemed alarmed rather than pleased at the presence of their leader._

_"Faramir, what is the matter?" Aragorn asked quietly of his steward, who rode alongside him._

_"I do not know, my lord." he replied, brow furrowed._

_The company rode forth, through the town, until they reached the meeting house. Dismounting to greet the dignitaries with which he had come to speak, the king observed that they, too, appeared unnerved._

_"Welcome, King Elessar Telecontar." called one of the dignitaries, somewhat nervously. "We are overjoyed by your presence. Your travels have been long and tiring, no doubt: come and make yourself comfortable."_

_He led the way towards the meeting house, followed by Aragorn, Faramir and Legolas, whilst the guard stayed back to care for the horses. Aragorn was glad of this; perhaps the people in this city were unaccustomed to visitors bearing arms, even if they were there to protect their king, hence their initial unease._

_The dignitary stopped suddenly outside the doors to the meeting house, and turned sternly to face the king._

_"My lord, we wish not to offend you or your company, but I must insist that the Elf stay outside." He requested, eying Legolas with apprehension._

_"Excuse me?" Faramir asked in confusion, beating Aragorn to the question whilst Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise._

_"This is a town of Men; we do not welcome Elves." the dignitary stated tensely. _

_"And why not?" Legolas snapped, causing the man to jump back a few steps in alarm._

_"We have had quarrels with his kind in the past, and we do not easily forget our histories. We do not welcome Elves here." he repeated, slightly timidly._

_"This is ridiculous, he is of no harm." Aragorn said impatiently._

_"My lord, I must insist." the leader said firmly. "The Elf is not to enter the meeting house. In fact, we would all be far more at ease if it left the vicinity of the city-"_

_"It?" Legolas said angrily, eyes flashing with fury. "It? I am an Elf, not a horse!"_

_The Elf and the dignitary quarreled angrily, each unwilling to comply to the other's guidelines. Eventually, despite Aragorn and Faramir's attention, the group of town leaders had come to consensus._

_"Perhaps this is not the most opportune moment for our conclave." the head dignitary said finally. "You may return at another time, my lord... But without the Elf."_

_And with that, the king and his company were unceremoniously escorted to outside the boundaries of the city. _

_"What idiocy!" Faramir exclaimed, frowning furiously as the townspeople closed the gates behind them. "Not allowing an Elf into the city, because of quarrels hundreds of years ago. Such madness is unheard of!"_

_But Aragorn was beyond reason with anger. He had cancelled a week's worth of urgent commitments to attend the council with the southern leaders, and after days of riding had simply been turned around and sent back._

_"Why did you insist on coming?" he snarled at Legolas, glaring at him. "You know your histories well enough - you should have foreseen this!"_

_Legolas opened his mouth to protest, before shutting it, unwilling to shift the blame, even if it fell so unfairly upon himself._

_"Well? What have you to say to that?" he said loudly, interpreting the Elf's silence as cowardice as opposed to humility._

_"I-I am s-sorry, Aragorn." Legolas stammered. "I meant not for this to happen."_

_"You are naught but a hindrance here; go back to your own people, and burden them with your stupidity." Aragorn snapped in reply, turning away._

Aragorn moaned in horror, as he realized the cruelty of his own words. His features contorted with misery once more, and he put his head in his hands.

"I am a fool, _a fool!" _he moaned to himself. "They were meaningless words said in the heat of the moment. I did not mean to hurt him so."

"I know, Aragorn, I know." Arwen sighed, and seeing her husband's distress her voice instinctively became comforting. "But even if they were said impulsively, it does not erase the fact that they were said."

"I am well aware of that fact." Aragorn said, before laughing bitterly. "It is strange - if such an argument were to arise between myself and anyone else, Legolas' counsel would be the first I would seek."

Arwen smiled sadly. "He is a loyal friend to you, Estel, and your bond is closer than any other I have ever seen. He is like a brother to you, and you to him. He would not have left his home in the Greenwood to serve in your realm if it were otherwise. But even one with wisdom and integrity such as Legolas' cannot be expected to withstand such harsh criticisms, especially unfounded ones."

"I must ride after him." Aragorn said suddenly, standing bolt upright and glancing towards the door. "I must beg him for my forgiveness-"

"No." Arwen cut across sharply. "You will never catch him. Even with Gimli he can ride faster than any Man, and attempting to chase him will just anger you both. He needs time, and space to think. Allow him that."

Aragorn yearned with every fibre of his being to chase after him, to track his friend down and set things right; but could see the truth in Arwen's words, and knew that to ensue Legolas on horseback was like trying to catch smoke with bare hands. He stared out of the window once more, peering at the horizon in the hope that Legolas could ever find it in himself to forgive him.

~~~{###}~~~

Legolas and Gimli exchanged barely a word for hours on end. Gimli could sense the Elf's anguish as clearly as he could see his sorrowful pose, and asked no questions regarding their sudden departure. He knew that his inquiries would do nothing to resolve his misery, whatever the cause of it may be, and so instead he put all of his focus into attempting to remain secured on the horse's back (a feat not easily performed by a Dwarf such as himself).

They crossed miles of flat grassland, putting a great deal of distance between them and the city. The ground beneath their steed's feet rose and fell gradually, and it seemed that they were riding for no other purpose than to escape Minas Tirith. Gimli began to question their route; they had discussed it, of course, but only briefly, and they had not made certain of anything.

"Legolas," Gimli called, above the roar of wind caused by their speed. "Perhaps we should stop and plan. Our path is uncertain, and I would have much peace of mind if we halted for a moment to properly navigate."

"Plan?" he repeated vaguely. "Yes, I suppose we should discuss that."

He slowed the horse to a stop, and dismounted gracefully before helping Gimli down. The Dwarf stumbled uncomfortably to the ground and collapsed there, wincing.

"My apologies, I had forgotten that you are not used to this means of travel!" Legolas gasped, seeing his friend's discomfort. "I am so sorry. We have ridden for hours without rest, you must be aching-"

"I've felt worse." Gimli interrupted gruffly. "In any case, we did not stop for me - we need to plan our route. There is no point in aimlessly riding without bearings or direction."

"Never a truer word has been spoken." Legolas agreed. "As for the route: what is your opinion?"

"Firstly, I suggest we continue northwest, via Edoras." Gimli stated.

Legolas nodded. "I am in agreement. I greatly wish to visit Éomer and his Men. They were strong comrades in battle, and should remain so in times of peace. But Edoras is at least two days ride away."

"We can make camp in the mountains. There are suitable caves aplenty in this area." Gimli suggested.

"I am not certain about traveling past the White Mountains, let alone camping in them." Legolas contradicted. "I have heard many a tale about encounters there which we certainly do not wish to recreate."

"Old wives' tales, I assure you!" dismissed Gimli carelessly.

Legolas pursed his lips. "I am not so certain."

"We have travelled the White Mountains before, without any such predicaments." Gimli pointed out. "We walked the Paths of the Dead, and emerged alive to tell the tale!"

"We were with... we were with Aragorn." Legolas replied hesitantly, his voice strained. He cleared his throat dismissively. "I merely mean to say that there were more than two of us. We had the Dúnedain, a company of thirty Rangers of the North."

"I just think that, Aragorn or no, we can handle the mountains. And if any trouble should befall us, we have the Mirkwood realm's best bowman to ensure our safety." Gimli announced, throwing in the compliment in a feeble attempt to raise his friend's spirits. It did little to help; the Elf merely stared at him solemnly.

"If you are so certain, than we shall go by your route. I have much trust in you." he stated finally.

"Excellent." Gimli boomed, excessively enthusiastically in the slight hope that his cheerfulness would catch on. "And then, if we continue northwest we will soon enough come to Helm's Deep, which is the quickest way to reach the Glittering Caves. Then we need simply travel further north to reach the Fangorn Forest."

"Indeed, if that is the route you would have us take." Legolas said indifferently.

"It is." Gimli stated firmly. "So let us ride on. This Dwarf has a few more hours in him yet."

Legolas and Gimli remounted and rode on, again in silence, until the sky grew dark and the stars shone above their heads. The night barely slowed them, however, and they decided to stop and rest only when they happened across a small cavern at the base of the mountains. Despite Gimli's sniggering, Legolas insisted on lighting a torch and searching the cave to ensure it was free of unwanted habitants.

"Is this really necessary?" the Dwarf asked, amused. "These are not the Misty Mountains, you know. There are no Orcs or goblins in these hills."

"Perhaps not, but there are worse things than creatures such as those." he muttered quietly in reply, striding ahead to examine the cavern's entirety. "I wish to rest without any hindering queries about the security of my location."

"Fine, fine." Gimli murmured indifferently, allowing Legolas to search the cave if it gave him peace of mind.

"The cave is clear." he announced a few minutes later, after thorough examination.

"I am glad to hear it." Gimli replied, his voice laden with sarcasm. "Now, if there is no more searching or riding to be done, I shall take my rest."

With that, he curled up on the hard stone floor, and fell asleep within moments. Legolas shook his head in amazement. _Only a Dwarf could rest on a cave floor as easily as a feather quilt, _he thought with amusement.

Legolas stepped quietly out of the cave to check once more that their horse was secured. He tied the reins around a small tree nearby, making sure the knot was tight to ensure the creature would not wander off whilst they slept.

Arod whinnied suddenly, stamping at the ground in distress. The Elf placed a slender hand on the animal's muzzle, murmuring reassuringly in Sindarin. Yet he himself felt suddenly unnerved.

Legolas spun around quickly, almost expecting to see himself surrounded by attackers. But the wind merely blew lazily, and not a stone was out of place at the cave's entrance. However, the Elf's keen senses were not fooled: high up above him, on a rocky ledge far out of view of any Man, was a pair of eyes.

The Elf had no sooner snatched up his bow than an arrow went whistling skyward. The eyes disappeared from view, the arrow missing narrowly and clattering as it collided with stone.

Legolas scowled angrily. We are no longer alone, he thought unhappily. My suspicions, it seems, have come to be more than the mere ramblings of a paranoid Elf.

He stared up at the rocky cliffs above him, considering the hundreds of places in which a scout could hide unnoticed in these mountains. It had been the precise reason why he had not wanted to travel alongside them, but he did not want to discourage his friend by voicing too many of his concerns.

Nor do I want to alarm the Dwarf, Legolas realized suddenly, picturing Gimli sleeping tranquilly in the cave just feet away. I cannot tell him about this. He will fret, and it will ruin the exploration of his beloved Glittering Caves.

Legolas peered around once more, his bow still held poised in his arms and ready to shoot at a second's notice. He saw nothing more, though, and relaxed his stance. He stroked the horse comfortingly one more time, before re-entering the cave.

He placed his bow down beside him (ready to be snatched up in a moment, if need be), and grabbed a blanket out from his pack. He strew it carelessly onto the cave floor, before laying down on top of it, mind still racing at his encounter just moments ago.

Legolas glanced over at Gimli, who was fast asleep, an undisturbed expression on his face.

No, I will not tell him, Legolas told himself firmly. He is at peace; I wish for him to remain so.

That night, the Elf slept uneasily, his head swimming with the image of a pair of eyes, growing ever closer.


	4. Chapter 4) Under Watchful Eye

CHAPTER 4. UNDER WATCHFUL EYE

It was just after dawn when Legolas and Gimli awoke, greeted by a chilled, biting morning air and a cold, rattling wind. They returned their things to their packs before exiting the cave, leaving behind the bare, cold rock such as they had found it.

Instantly, Legolas began to subtly survey the area outside for signs of disturbance. Arod was still tied securely to the tree where he had been left, and everything seemed in place. Peering up at the rocky slopes with sharp elven eyes, he almost expected to see more scouts spying down on them.

Yet nothing seemed to be a cause for alarm - there was no sign of anyone in that section of the mountains apart from the Elf and the Dwarf. Legolas was not reassured, however - he felt intensely uneasy as he and Gimli stood around, exposed and vulnerable. His companion's next comment did much to soothe his spirits.

"We should eat quickly, and begin our travels." the Dwarf suggested, grabbing their food stores out of his pack. "I wish to cover as much ground as possible today; if we ride with haste, we will make it to Edoras by nightfall. Then tomorrow we will be at Helm's Deep!"

Legolas agreed instantly: nothing would please him more than to be able to set off, away from the mountains that were causing him so very much discomfort.

They quickly ate their breakfast of _lembas_, the Elvish waybread with almost magical properties, before closing their packs and mounting their horse. Almost immediately Legolas began to lead Arod away from the mountains, a fact which did not go unnoticed by Gimli.

"Is there a problem?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, none." Legolas lied smoothly. "The horse will be less likely to tire on a flatter surface, that is all."

To Legolas' luck, the Dwarf's knowledge of horses was basically non-existent. He did not suspect that his friend's true motive was to move them both out of the range of an arrow, as opposed to making the journey easier on their steed.

"This wind is chilling me to the bone!" Gimli called suddenly, over the roar of the gale. "I feel as though I am once again trapped in a snowstorm at the pass of Caradhras!"

"It does seem cold." Legolas agreed, observing the frost-covered grass rolling beneath them.

"It _seems_ cold?" Gimli spat in astonishment. "Ah, but of course, your kind to not feel the cold, do you?"

"Generally not, no." Legolas agreed, smirking. "Apparently we Elves are some deal stronger and hardier than you dwarves."

"Elves, stronger than Dwarves? I should think not." Gimli scoffed, but he did not utter a single complaint about the weather from then onwards.

Legolas rode with unparalleled prowess, and despite the burden of an unexperienced Dwarf they travelled far faster than the average Man could achieve. The miles of Gondor plains flew beneath their steed's hooves, once again with little discussion between the two comrades.

Gimli noted, quite happily, that Legolas did not seem as solemn as the day previous. This was mainly due to the fact that the Elf's thoughts were fixated on the more immediate danger of scout invasions, as opposed to the emotional one of Aragorn's disloyalty and insults. Indeed, if the matter had slipped his mind, it was still lurking about his subconscious, ready to be painfully recalled at the slightest prompt.

"So, Legolas, my fine, fair-faced friend, are you anticipating the Glittering Caves with _suitable_ excitement yet?" Gimli queried, partially as a test to see if the Elf was still brooding, and also partially as a genuine inquiry.

Legolas laughed, continuing the act of feigned normality as not to alarm his comrade or make him suspect that anything was out of place. "Not as much as you are, my Dwarfish companion."

"I would expect not, no." Gimli agreed. "For a Dwarf is to the mountain what a gull is to the sea. They are inseparable entities: we are forever bound to delve and mine the rocky cavities of the caves."

"Indeed." Legolas mused absentmindedly. "But, if the Glittering Caves are as glorious as you perceive them, why then do you and your people not start a mine there?"

Gimli raised his bushy eyebrows in surprise.

"For a tree-dweller such as yourself, that is not a bad idea." he pondered thoughtfully. "It would make a mighty fortress for the Dwarves, of that there is no question."

"Led by the wise Dwarf-lord, Gimli son of Glóin, the caves would be glorious indeed!" Legolas said jokingly.

Gimli stroked his wild beard in serious deliberation.

"Gimli son of Glóin, Dwarf-lord of the Glittering Caves." he murmured, slowly but grandly. "The name has a certain ring to it, does it not?"

"Oh, yes, certainly." Legolas agreed quickly, struggling not to laugh. "It is a very elegant title indeed."

Gimli finally detected the Elf's sarcasm, and whacked him hard in the shoulder.

"Go on, laugh, you pointy-eared forest lover." he sniffed in mock dejection. "Aragorn would see the grandeur in it. You are far too arrogant to appreciate such things of a mere, humble Dwarf."

Legolas' laughter broke off suddenly, and his momentary happiness vanished in the blink of an eye. Gimli's words had made him once again revisit the dark memory of his bitter parting with the king, unbeknownst, of course, to the Dwarf.

To his surprise, Legolas found unintended meaning in his friend's words.

_You are far too arrogant to appreciate such things of a mere, humble Dwarf._

Perhaps he was being _arrogant_ in taking offense to Aragorn's words. Never before had the king shown intent to harm a friend, verbally or otherwise. What if Legolas himself was at fault? Could he have been too self-important, even to the extent of being haughty?

_But that does not change what he said, not what he did, _Legolas reminded himself firmly. _He showed utter disregard towards me and my people. The spitefulness of that is not to be underestimated._

Legolas was in two minds, each with strong opinions that entirely contradicted each other. As a prince of his people, he could never allow them to be scorned and disdained like they had been. Yet at the same time, he wished more than anything that Aragorn had not intended to insult him, that his words were some horrible slight of tongue. Maybe Arwen had spoken the truth: _"He meant not what he said. Aragorn would never disregard you or your kin, you know that.". _

Did he know it, though?

Legolas knew that Aragorn had once had a close companionship with the elvish race. But now he was the King of Gondor - a king of _Men_. He knew not where Aragorn's allegiances would lie if the choice came between his bloodline and the Elvish people with whom he had grown up. It would be a severe conflict of loyalties, at the very least.

And still, it was not just the incident upon Legolas' departure that haunted him. He physically flinched as he relived the memory of the harsh words that had kept his nights sleepless, and the few dreams he had managed to be horrible nightmares.

_"You are naught but a hindrance here; go back to your own people, and burden them with your stupidity."_

Gimli peered at Legolas in concern, alarmed by his sudden silence and docility, and even more so by the sudden wince that had escaped him.

"Legolas, is something the matter?" he asked, not for the first (nor the last) time.

"No, no, not at all." the Elf replied, a little too quickly, and entirely unconvincingly. "I would like to reach the Edoras by nightfall, that is all."

And with that, Legolas spurred the horse on. They flew speedily across the open country, the deafening clatter of horseshoes blocking out the opportunity for further conversation.

~~~{###}~~~

Meanwhile, the King of Gondor sat in discussion with his Chief Steward.

"... and if we deploy a small force of craftsmen to the eastern gate, we can begin the reconstruction of the wall segment that was destroyed." Faramir was explaining, glancing at a scroll of parchment in reference. "But I thought to seek your approval before agreeing to such a project. My lord?"

Aragorn, who had been gazing pensively out of the window, snapped out of his thoughts suddenly.

"My apologies, Faramir. You were saying?" he queried, gazing at him with avid interest.

The Steward smiled understandingly. "I detect that your thoughts are otherwise occupied. Am I correct?"

"Yes, as usual." Aragorn sighed, dropping the act and slumping over in physical and emotional exhaustion. "You have a certain talent for reading me like an open book."

Faramir stared up at his king solemnly. "Perhaps there is some truth in that. Yet I see your pain, my lord. What ails you so?"

"It ails me not a fraction of what it must ail the true victim." Aragorn murmured in shame.

Anguished grief and regret stabbed at his chest like a thousand blades, tearing at his heart and mind. Once again, he revisited the guilt-ridden memories of his foolishly leaden tongue. The sight of Legolas' fair face, contorted with anger, shock, and worst of all, a distressed pain, flashed through his mind. He recalled, with uncanny precision, the look of agony in those sharp blue eyes, before his long blond hair whipped around as he left the chamber with the speed and grace of his Elvish kin.

_I caused him that pain, _Aragorn reminded himself. _By my cruel accusations and crude words about his people, I have cast from the city my closest comrade._

"The _true victim_ is one of the wisest beings in Middle-earth. He will understand your errors, and will be forgiving, I have no doubt of that." Faramir stated with certainty.

Aragorn raised an eyebrow. "You do not miss a thing that goes on in this city, do you, my friend?"

"Very little in Gondor goes unnoticed by me, my lord, if I may be so pretentious." he said with a small smile. "Which is why I am quite certain that Legolas will be empathetic. He knows you better than anyone, my lord, even better than I do. He will realize that your words were a mere error in judgement, and he will forgive you."

"I wish I could be as sure." Aragorn sighed weakly. "But I appreciate your sentiments. I only hope that they are accurate."

"Legolas knows that you are no longer a Ranger of the North. He is aware of your duties, and how you bear them alone, despite their weight. Things have changed between the two of you, and will continue to change as long as you remain King of Gondor. He must learn to accept that, and the consequences that come with it." Faramir replied, slowly and calmly. "Even if those consequences are that you can no longer make decisions for the approval of an ally that is weakening, instead of growing stronger."

"I do not want excuses for what I did." Aragorn spat angrily, more to himself than to the Steward. "There is no excuse for hurting a friend."

"Perhaps not, but if there ever was to be justification for harming a friend, it would be yours." Faramir said reasonably. "I do not think that even you yourself understand the weight of the responsibility that rests on your shoulders. You were under the pressure of the entire kingdom of Gondor, and you were forced to make a choice. You made the one that benefitted your people, your kin. You should not regret in that."

But Aragorn merely shook his head slowly in denial, and looked out over the dusky city as he spoke in a dead, hopeless tone.

"Nevertheless, when the time comes, I will beg for his forgiveness, and pray to the Valar that he accepts it. It would be far more than I deserve."


	5. Chapter 5) Meduseld

CHAPTER 5. MEDUSELD

The sun was shining with a dull, dusky glow when Legolas and Gimli's horse finally pulled up outside the wall of Edoras.

The Elf slowed their horse to a trot as they approached the gateway. The wooden gates were opened wide as if in welcome, though guards still patrolled the city wall watchfully. They passed through the archway, their speed slowed to a walking pace. A soldier at his post bowed at the horse's riders, eyes wide in recognition of the heroes that had helped save his city and his people. Legolas inclined his head respectfully, eyes bright and cheerful now that they were safely within the city's perimeters.

They wound their way up the hill to where the king's halls lay, under the roof of Meduseld, the great golden halls of Rohan. They were greeted with familiarity by the guards, many of whom Legolas recognized to have once been cavalry soldiers under Éomer's lead.

Legolas dismounted, and offered a hand to Gimli, who shook his head firmly.

"I can manage to get off a horse without help." he said gruffly, though his actions appeared to contrast his statement as he swung off the saddle and fell to the ground, landing on his feet but with a precarious wobble. Legolas fought to restrain himself, but was forced to mask his laughter with poorly feigned coughing, earning himself a dark look from the Dwarf.

This he ignored, as his attention was diverted to an approaching stableboy. Legolas handed him Arod's reins with a note of thanks, before striding forwards and up the steps leading to Meduseld. As he reached the top, he glanced around, taking in the wide views.

It was barely recognizable as the same city Legolas had visited during the war. The streets, once grey and solemn, were bright, and filled with the bustle and trade of a prosperous kingdom. The townspeople showed obvious contentment, and their generally celebratory spirit was similar to that of the people in Minas Tirith. Even the wildflowers on the plains in the distance seemed to bloom in rejoice, beneath the cloudless blue sky.

"My lords, welcome to Edoras." a door warden greeted breathlessly, returning the Elf's focus to the city. "The king will be overjoyed to welcome you again to his halls."

"The pleasure will be ours." Legolas replied with a warm smile.

"Aye, unless you wish to rob us of our weaponry again, as in our last _peaceful_ visit." Gimli interjected gruffly.

Legolas glared angrily at the Dwarf, scorning his bluntness, but the door warden merely laughed sympathetically. "I have heard that tale many a time, I assure you. Nay, your weapons are yours to keep, Gimli son of Glòin. You are both heroes to the people of Rohan, and may enter our halls bearing whatever you wish."

"Excellent." Gimli barked, beard twitching in amusement as the warden admitted them into the palace.

Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor as they entered the vast hall. The tapestry-covered walls basked in sunlight, illuminating the histories and legends of the Rohirrim. At the end of the room stood a throne, artfully carved with characteristic Rohan designs, and seated upon which was the lord of the kingdom.

"Greetings, my friends!" called the man, standing, his arms wide in welcome.

"Éomer." Legolas replied, striding gracefully to meet the King of Rohan, a tranquil smile on his fair face.

"Legolas! How fare you, my Elvish comrade-in-arms? We have missed you in our ranks, my friend." Éomer stated cheerfully, blue eyes alight.

"I fare well." he responded briefly, and not entirely truthfully. "As do you, unless my eyes deceive me. The kingship suits you, if I may be permitted to say so."

"I offer my thanks, though I am doubtful of the truthfulness of your words." Éomer laughed, indicating his richly embroidered robes in discomfort. "It is far cry from being a rider in the king's armies."

"Perhaps, and yet the change is not unbecoming." Legolas replied flatteringly. "Your appearance is as much of a king as your words, and that is a welcome thought."

"Oh, enough of this formality. One would think you two were mere acquaintances, instead of comrades and allies!" Gimli grumbled, pushing Legolas aside and embracing Éomer roughly. "It is good to see you again, my friend."

"And you, Master Gimli." Éomer replied, exchanging a look of mingled surprise and amusement with Legolas as Gimli released him from his grasp. "But I am a poor host, for I had forgotten of your long, tiring journey! Come, and you may dine and rest your legs, and we can discuss all things which have occurred since our companies were separated."

Gimli and Legolas followed him into a nearby hall, where soon servants came bearing food and drink for the king's guests. They ate the Rohan fare gratefully, especially on Gimli, who was already growing tired of _lembas_.

"So what is news in Minas Tirith? It was my impression that you had both remained in the city for the last few weeks." Éomer asked conversationally, once his guests had taken all they wished of the fare.

"Aye, that is correct." Gimli agreed, pausing to take a swig from his goblet before continuing. "We have remained in Gondor to assist with the rebuilding of the kingdom, at Aragorn's bidding."

"Ah, and how is Aragorn?" Éomer queried jovially. "He is another soldier the Rohan armies have missed dearly!"

"He is well." Gimli announced briefly, returning to his goblet and appearing to make no attempt to elaborate further.

Éomer turned to Legolas with a questioning glare. Legolas fought to keep his face straight, before forcing a smile.

"Aragorn is well, as Gimli said." he lied, his voice one of would-be nonchalance. "He is busy, of course, extremely busy with rebuilding the city's battlements, but there is no better candidate for such a role."

He smiled forecfully again, hoping that his eyes would not betray him. Éomer surveyed him with a doubtful glance, eyebrows raised.

"You are a poor liar, Legolas of Mirkwood." he commented finally, picking up his goblet and taking a pensive sip. "However, I shall question you not, for it is not my place."

"Perhaps not, but it is mine." Gimli stated gruffly. "I knew not of any quarrels between you and Aragorn, but it is apparent that all is not well with you, nor with the King of Gondor!"

"If I tell you of it not, then it is my wish, and you would do well to comply with it." Legolas replied vacantly, his face blank and expressionless.

"Do not force me to extract an answer from you." Gimli growled threateningly. "We Dwarves are quick to anger."

"Yet Elves are strong in their silence," Legolas retorted firmly, blue eyes steely with resolve. "and will bend not to the will of any being, be they Man or Dwarf."

Gimli grumbled with displeasure, casting the Elf an angry glare.

"My friends, I am sorry I brought about such a topic! Let us move on." Éomer said hastily, scrambling to change the subject. "Tell me - what news have you heard of your own people?"

"Little," Gimli replied, his angry glare turning to a neutral expression as he directed the answer to Éomer. "but enough to know that all is well. This war was a war of Men, not of Dwarves, and we had little to do with it."

"That is all as well, really." Éomer stated, nodding solemnly. "What of you, Legolas?"

"I... I have heard not from my kin in Mirkwood since I embarked on the Quest." he replied reluctantly, turning his face away as if in shame. "I know not of how they fare."

"Indeed?" Éomer mused, eyebrows raised again.

"I knew not of this, either!" Gimli stated, glaring accusingly at the Elf. "What more do you hide from me?"

"Nothing, my dear Gimli. It is merely that few of my people travel outside the woodland realm, and even less are to be found so far south." Legolas replied, sufficing with a partial answer to satisfy the Dwarf.

_It is somewhat true, _Legolas thought in justification. _Elves from Mirkwood seldom wander into the southern realms of Men. It matters not that there may be other reasons I have not heard from my kin._

Gimli shrugged, apparently content with the legitimacy of his answer. "I suppose that is true. We Dwarves are scarcely known to travel outside our own borders. We prefer to remain inside our halls, where there is stone to be mined and ale to be drunk!"

"Aye, I will agree to that!" Éomer stated, banging his goblet against the the Dwarf's cheerfully. "Ale and pipeweed, and we shall be happier than a Halfling with a basket of mushrooms!"

"Ah, a Man after my own heart!" Gimli growled fondly, chuckling deeply.

Legolas shook his head, frowning slightly. "No amount of time spent with Men, Dwarves and Hobbits will ever enlighten me about the attraction of _pipeweed."_

"Alas, I had forgotten - your people do not smoke the mighty leaf, do they?" Éomer mused.

"Nay, we do not, nor can I see the pleasure in such a pastime." Legolas replied, with a hint of condescension.

"Now, Master Elf, speak not of that which you know not." Gimli scolded. "For all their supposed wisdom and superiority, Elves have enormous gaps in their knowledge. Primarily, pipeweed!"

"Is that so?" Legolas queried, laughing along with Éomer. Gimli held a scornful expression momentarily, before bursting into booming chuckled that reverberated off the chamber walls.

"Ah, my friends, I am glad of your company." Éomer announced, sighing happily. "Though I do not think I have asked: what brings you to Rohan? You are far from Minas Tirith."

"Indeed, for our travels are beyond the kingdom of Gondor." Legolas agreed. "We have wish to visit Helm's Deep, if the lord of those lands would allow it."

"Of course. You have free passage within Rohan." Éomer replied instantly, an expression of bewilderment on his face. "Yet I do not understand what you would visit the fortress for; there is naught but crumbling battlements there, and the ruins of war."

"You forget, Lord Éomer, about the Glittering Caves." Gimli interjected, with a significant look at the king.

Éomer's eyes widened in realization, and he smiled widely. "Ah, you seek the caves? And so it comes to pass that an Elf travels across the kingdoms of Men, to seek out a Dwarf's treasure. How strange it seems!"

"Aye, when phrased in that manner, it sounds like a foolish mission indeed." Legolas agreed, laughing lightly. "But we do not travel all this way to see merely _caves_. I have wish to explore the forests of Fangorn."

Éomer's face darkened with apprehension. "Fangorn Forest? There are dark tidings of those woods. I would not counsel you to journey thither."

"Yet, though I wish not to disregard your counsel, it is my strong desire to proceed thus." Legolas replied, firmly but with cautious courtesy. "Though my many years have seen defeats and triumphs more numerous than by any of the race of Men, never in my travels have I observed trees the like of those in Fangorn. Indeed, my desire to explore them was so great that it almost tore me from my duty during the Quest; I mourned departing those woods, and my heart will not rest until I see them again."

"You are firm in mindset, and I will not attempt to persuade you from your path." Éomer said wisely. "I will merely bid you caution upon your chosen road, and hope that you will fare well upon it."

"We shall take your bidding gratefully, and your hope also." Legolas countered gratefully. "Though the hour is late, and we ride off at dawn; we had best take leave and rest for our travels."

"Certainly, certainly." Éomer murmured, rising from his seat. "My people will show you to your chambers, where you may rest at ease, for darkness abides no longer in the halls of Meduseld."

Legolas and Gimli thanked their host, before being lead to nearby guestrooms, where beds were already prepared for them both. A sudden weariness overcame them, and they sank onto the covers, their sleep deep and unhindered.

~~~{###}~~~

Legolas was awoken by the first piercing rays of Rohan sunlight through the windows of their chamber. He forced his eyes open, stretching the sleep from his graceful limbs.

"Gimli? Awake, my friend. It is daybreak, and we have many miles before us." Legolas called softly to the Dwarf, who lay sprawled on the bed beside him.

He slowly sat upright, his eyes falling upon the Elf with a sour glare. Legolas raised his eyebrows questioningly, but fell silent, allowing his friend to wake properly before judging him on his sudden and seemingly mirthless disposition.

They collected their packs in tense silence, and departed the halls of Meduseld to the courtyard below. Legolas disappeared momentarily, returning from the stables with Arod.

"Are we ready to go, my friend?" Legolas asked courteously, adjusting the saddle slightly.

"Nay, I am not." Gimli returned brusquely.

Legolas frowned slightly in confusion, turning to face the Dwarf with eyes full of questioning. "Whyever not?"

"Last night's discussion with Éomer enlightened to me several matters of secrecy to which I had been oblivious." Gimli stated. "I had noticed not of your disputes with Aragorn. I held my tongue in front of Éomer, but now I wish to know the circumstances of our departure from Minas Tirith, in their entirety. What was the nature of your disagreement?"

Legolas shook his head. "There are many matters in which I do not divulge their entirety upon you, or indeed anyone, and it is largely with reason that I do so."

"I refuse to travel with one who would leave me questioning, clueless about anything but what my own eyes befall!" Gimli growled angrily.

"Yet that is the nature of traveling with an Elf." Legolas replied calmly. "There are differences aplenty between our people, and this is perhaps the largest. There can be no knowing for you, a child in the eyes of my people, all that I have seen, and all that I have known. We are not an outgoing people, Gimli; we do not boast of our triumphs, yet nor are we open about matters close to our hearts. I beg of you to accept that."

"And if I cannot?" Gimli countered, arms folded across his chest stubbornly.

"Then I would say you are acting like a child in fey mood!" Legolas replied snappily, brow creased deeply.

"Now at least something is revealed to me - I see at last the usual contempt for my people that the Elves usually portray!" Gimli snarled, turning away.

Legolas' anger fell from his face in a moment, replaced by a look of mingled regret and anguish.

"I do not contempt your people." he murmured softly. "Nor would you be able to understand the lengths I have gone to in order to protect them."

Gimli spun back around, frowning deeply. "Protect them? You-"

"Aye, but now is not the time for that tale, for it is a long one, with many facets. But let me vow to you that you will hear it soon, and you will understand." Legolas promised.

"Will I also understand about Aragorn?" Gimli asked eagerly.

Legolas shrank slightly, unnoticeably to any but the keen sight of his own kindred, his eyes swimming with torment.

"Perhaps." he lied vaguely. "But first we must ride. If you keep asking me all these questions, it will be noon before we depart!"

He leapt nimbly up onto the saddle, hauling the Dwarf on behind him. Murmuring gently to Arod in his natural tongue, he directed the horse forwards without the need for physical commands.

"That is unnatural." Gimli stated, glaring at the horse apprehensively.

"I know not what you mean." Legolas responded, bewildered, as Arod descended the hill down to the city gate.

"The horse - it understands you!" Gimli spluttered. "It obeys your commands, _vocal _commands, mind you, yet the animal was trained in Rohan, where your tongue has not been heard for an age!"

"Arod is intelligent." Legolas replied simply, shrugging lightly. "He comes from a strong line of steeds, and thus possesses qualities that his kind usually do not."

Gimli shook his head doubtfully. "Nay, that is not the answer. It is Elf-magic!"

"Magic?" Legolas repeated, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I possess no magic. I am not one of the Istari."

"There are tales of Elf-magic laced throughout the histories." Gimli said, a note of excitement in his voice. "The ability to heal, to protect, to persuade..."

_"Tales, _Gimli_._" Legolas replied pointedly. "Besides, what is the definition of magic? Surely those who can perform such tasks would deem them as natural, and they would only be viewed as 'magical' by one who does not possess the same ability."

"Perhaps that is so, but directing animals merely by tongue is certainly unnatural." Gimli stated stubbornly.

"On the contrary, it is entirely natural. Or, at least it is to those of my kindred." Legolas said thoughtfully.

"Yet did Lady Galadriel herself not once speak of the magic of Elves? She was able to guard the realm of Lorién from evil, without a single soldier to patrol it's borders. Surely that must be counted as magic!" Gimli returned incredulously.

"Galadriel is one of the High Elves. She was not born in Middle-earth, but in Valinor, across the sea to the west. She is an exception to many rules that apply to the Elves." Legolas informed him. "Few alike her have walked these lands."

"Ah! So there is magic among your people!" Gimli barked in satisfaction.

Legolas laughed wearily, as they passed under the city gate and out onto the open plains of Rohan. "I suppose there is... to a degree. But come, enough debate. We have caves to see, do we not?"

The Elf spurred Arod into action, and his hooves pounded across the grassland forcefully. Gimli spluttered with disapproval as he struggled to remain on the horse's back. Legolas, on the other hand, breathed in the open air gratefully, relieved at the halt in conversation. He had never been one for much talking, and especially not about himself. The presence of Gimli forced him into almost continual chatter, which constantly bent to the verge of being forced to divulge more than he wanted. Indeed, in the last day he had spoken both of his quarrels with Aragorn and the strained nature of his relationship with his kindred, and said much more of the two subjects than he would have liked.

_One would think that centuries of withheld secrets would make the practice easier, _Legolas mused. _And yet when truthfulness is as innate to your kindred as drawing breath, it is a constant struggle, no matter the frequency with which it is performed._

He allowed his mind to slip blank, forcing himself to focus on steady hoofbeats below him instead of the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his head.


	6. Chapter 6) Awe and Anxiety

CHAPTER 6. AWE AND ANXIETY

The sun was sinking below the horizon when Arod slowed to a trot beside the wall of the Helm's Deep fortress. The fortress stood in ruin, a mass of crumbling stone and rusting, discarded weaponry. The whole mountainside was eerily still; unnervingly so. Glancing around, Legolas suddenly remembered the battle in vivid detail - everything from the roars of the oncoming Orcs and Uruk-hai, to the clang of metal-on-metal. He recalled with uncanny clarity the breaching of the wall and the rush of enemy soldiers, the oncoming weapons of fire burning like beacons through the black night. He saw the bowstrings, taught and awaiting, whilst swords were drawn from their sheaths and shields readied for collision - he frowned at the grim memory.

The Elf dismounted with impossible agility, landing lightly on the rocky ground. He glanced around at the barren, rocky mountainside, his sharp eyes catching the glint of metal from a few feet above him. He sprung nimbly up onto a nearby ledge and reached for the object. Drawing it down, he observed a dented but recognizable Rohan sword.

"Ah, at last. I was beginning to tire of riding." Gimli said gruffly, having dismounted the horse himself. He glanced sideways curiously at the weapon in Legolas' hand. The Elf examined it with a look of disapproval, before casting it away with a clatter.

"This place is naught but the remnants of battle." he said with disdain. "It is apparent that I do not enjoy the return visit any more than my first encounter with this place."

"Why should you fear this place?" Gimli asked, almost jeeringly.

"I fear it not. It... repulses me." he answered hesitantly.

"You are a warrior, and an excellent one at that. How does it repulse you, the mere sight of a battleground?" Gimli said quizzically.

"All Elves are warriors when need be, but we despise conflict nonetheless." Legolas answered flatly. "We lack the aggression and hatred of Men, and seek to avoid violence if ever possible. Even in war, we of elven kind cannot bear to cause unnecessary harm to any race of Middle-earth."

Aragorn's face flickered through his mind's eye, but he pushed it away instantly. Now was not the time to be recalling those bitter memories, as well as the bloody ones of war.

"But you were a victor in this battle, were you not?" Gimli questioned confoundedly.

"In war, there are no victors." Legolas replied shortly, staring at the crumbling battlements with a cold and distant air. "Come; lead the way to the Caves. I have no desire to remain in this place, where only memories of death and despair linger."

"As you wish." the Dwarf replied promptly. "Though we will have to pass on foot from this point. The path is steep, I'm afraid."

And with that, Gimli stumbled ungainly forward, with Legolas following behind, leading Aros by the reins. The horse whinnied nervously on occasion, disheartened by the eerie stillness of the ruins. Legolas whispered comfortingly in Sindarin, stroking its white muzzle reassuringly whilst feeling the very same discomfort as the steed. He trailed hesitantly after Gimli, and was very relieved when his companion suddenly exclaimed:

"Ah, here is the entrance! Prepare your Elvish eyes for the beauty of the Glittering Caves."

Legolas quickened his stride to catch up with the Dwarf, and gazed at the opening to the Cave. The entrance was wide and open, and sloped back into darkness.

"Well?" Gimli said brusquely, surveying the Elf for a reaction whilst bouncing on the balls of his feet like an impatient child. "What do you think?"

"I think that it is too dark for me to make fair observation." the Elf mused. "A torch would not go amiss, I believe."

Gimli grumbled to himself, but set down his pack and extracted from that the supplies they had brought for such on occasion. Meanwhile, Legolas secured Arod's reins to a nearby tree; he knew from experience that animals, especially horses, were not overly partial to caves.

Dwarves can light fires almost anywhere, wind or none, and within moments Gimli had the twigs roaring fiercely. He shoved the torch roughly into Legolas' hand.

"Will you be requiring anything else, my pampered, pointy-eared partner?" he asked sarcastically.

"No, that will do, I believe." Legolas replied, with wide-eyed innocence. "Lead the way, Master Gimli."

Gimli rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, but proceeded to enter the cavern. Legolas froze, smirking, before following after him, ducking slightly through the low-lying entrance.

"Ah." Gimli sighed, running a stubby hand along the cave wall. "I am very glad to return here."

"I am reluctant to mention this, Gimli, but this does not seem to be a cave of any particular superiority." Legolas commented pointedly. "Of course, I am not a Dwarf, so I know not of what makes once cave distinguished from the next, but for all intents and purposes..."

Gimli turned around, smiling knowingly.

"Even you, Elf, will see what is special about these caves soon enough." he replied mysteriously. "That is, if you put a stop to your constant chatter and interruptions."

Legolas held up his hands in a sign of innocence, and beckoned for Gimli to continue. He walked onward eagerly, with the elf trailing curiously after him.

The cave continued, gradually sloping downwards into the depths of the mountain. The air grew steadily colder, and the light from the torch in his hand penetrated the pitch-darkness with increasing difficulty. Yet the Dwarf continued, unperturbed and apparently certain of their route.

As they descended further and further downwards, Legolas' sharp Elvish senses began to distinguish a strange aura in the space around him. He frowned, unable to identify the slight change in the air. He was surprised to find the sensation (or perhaps it was a scent, for he did not truly know what he was detecting) vaguely familiar, but the memory that came to him gave no assistance in identifying it.

Gimli turned around suddenly, and, seeing his look of puzzlement, gave him a smug smile.

"Ah, so you can sense it too, eh, Elf?" he laughed gruffly. "I was doubtful that you would notice. It_ is _a predominately Dwarfish matter."

"A Dwarfish matter?" Legolas repeated, bemused. "I merely sense a change in the air; I do not recognize it. In all my years in Middle-earth, only once can I recall such a sensation."

"Oh, yes, and what was that?" Gimli prompted.

"At the Mines of Moria." Legolas replied blankly.

Gimli grinned. "Not bad at all, my friend. You Elves are observant, I give you that."

"Do you wish to elaborate, or leave me guessing a while longer?" Legolas asked, shaking his head but smiling in amusement.

"As much as I enjoy your confusion, I will explain." Gimli replied, turning back around and striding forwards a few paces. "Or, more aptly, I will let it explain. After you, my Elvish princeling."

He gestured to what Legolas had assumed was a dead-end, but on closer observation he noticed that there was a small opening near the floor. It was narrow and only rose up to the Elf's knee. He raised an eyebrow with a questioning glare at Gimli, before getting to his knees and sliding through the gap, careful not to tear his clothing on the jagged rocky ground.

_I cannot even begin to imagine what the Elves in Mirkwood would say if they saw me now,_ Legolas mused._ Prince of the Greenwood, crawling through caves with a Dwarf for company. _

Shaking his head, he pulled his slender frame through the gap and got to his feet. He glanced up at the cavernous space around him and gave an audible gasp.

The walls, unlike the dark, rocky ones of the previous caves, were embedded with thousands of coloured jewels and gemstones, glinting out of the dark walls. The very stone itself shimmered silvery-grey by the light of the torch. The roof arched high above their heads, and was studded with more impossible amounts of glimmering gems. An underground stream trickled gently through the cave, reflecting the breathtaking spectacle that surrounded them.

"Gimli son of Glòin, you have understated these caves!" he exclaimed, the sound bouncing and echoing off the walls.

"Nonsense, I told you long ago about their greatness!" Gimli replied, hauling himself gracelessly through the small entrance and stumbling to his feet.

"Yes, but I thought that was typical Dwarfish over-exaggeration!" Legolas replied, laughing.

"Well, they are not called the 'Glittering Caves' without reason." Gimli commented in amusement. "So, are they worthy of your presence,_ Elf?" _

"I think a more appropriate question would be whether or not_ I_ am worthy of _their_ presence." Legolas said, still glancing around in awe.

Gimli chuckled hoarsely, as the Elf moved towards the glimmering wall. He ran a hand along a silvery vein in the rock.

"Is that-" he began, before the dwarf interrupted.

"Mithril? Yes. That was the scent you detected earlier. The walls are filled with it."

"The jewels in this cave alone would be worth as much as the treasures of the Lonely Mountain!" Legolas exclaimed, running a hand along the encrusted wall.

"Perhaps, though I doubt that any Dwarf could ever have the heart to mine these caves." Gimli replied, glancing around with an affectionate and uncharacteristically dewy gaze. "Some things should just be left to themselves. This place is near enough to sacred to count as one of those things."

"Surely you could not expect to leave without a token of this place?" Legolas said in surprise. "I am no Dwarf, but I was under the impression that you were all but kin with metal and stone."

"You seem to have a strange impression of dwarfkind, my Elven friend." Gimli replied, chuckling lightly.

"Enlighten me, then." Legolas replied, sitting down and making himself at ease before glancing up at him expectantly. "I have had little to do with your kin; tell me of them."

Gimli laughed a loud, booming sound that reverberated off the gem-studded walls.

"Now, this is unheard of." he commented, sitting down beside Legolas. "An Elf, inquisitive towards Dwarfish culture? Usually your kind are too busy despising us to ask any such questions."

"Now, now, there is no need to start that debate." Legolas said immediately. "I assure you, in all my years I have heard it quite enough."

"No, I insist." Gimli disagreed. "I wish to settle the matter with one Elf, at least, if not the rest of you. You hold a grudge over us because... Why?"

"Because the Dwarves slew the ancient Elven king, Thingol, in the vain pursuit for one of the Silmaril, the jewels hallowed by the Valar themselves." Legolas answered smoothly, recalling the information from tales he had heard hundreds of times.

"And, pray tell, dear Elf, how long ago did this _tragic_ event occur?" Gimli inquired cynically.

"Approximately 6,500 years ago." he answered, rolling his eyes.

"Is that not time enough for you and your kin to simply move on?" the Dwarf prompted pointedly.

"Apparently not." Legolas chuckled. "They say that Thingol was a king of unmatchable might and wisdom."

"Ah, well, there you go. It all makes sense now." Gimli said sarcastically.

Legolas smiled sympathetically, understanding of his intolerance in the disputes between their people. The Elf himself was in agreement - he put little weight in the old contention of Elves and Dwarves - yet he knew that many of his kin in Mirkwood had very different opinions. His own father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, had little patience with Dwarves, and resented any that wandered into their Elvish haven in the Greenwood. He knew that his Adar had reason, for he was one of the few beings remaining in Middle-earth that remembered the fierce battles between their races, and yet Legolas had more than once attempted (in vain) to debate the matter.

"Do you recall our first meeting?" Legolas asked suddenly, interrupting the trickling of the stream as it ran gently through the cavern.

"Of course: the Council of Elrond." Gimli replied immediately, somewhat surprised by the question. "Back then, I was of the opinion that you were a snobby Elvish princeling."

"And I thought you a scruffy, inarticulate little creature." Legolas commented, smiling slyly. "It appears my observations were quite accurate."

The Elf easily dodged a poorly aimed punch from Gimli, who was laughing too hard to aim an attack with any degree of accuracy. Long did the Dwarf's guffaws echo through the cavern, before there was silence but for the trickle of the underground stream.

"Are there more caves like this one, Gimli?" Legolas inquired.

"Oh yes, hundreds!" Gimli answered happily. "Some smaller, and some even larger than this - long tunnels of stone, and underground pools glittering with the reflections of mithril and gold. Veins of precious ore glint within the polished stone, and there is chamber after chamber of diamonds and crystals... They are mighty indeed to behold."

"And we shall." Legolas agreed. "But for tonight, I think we should retire. I am uneasy about leaving Arod tethered outside, but there is naught chance of fitting the creature through the entrance through which we came."

Gimli grinned mischievously.

"Perhaps not through that entrance, no." he agreed slowly. "But there is an entrance not far from here that could fit ten horses side-by-side, and still have plentiful space to spare."

"What?" Legolas exclaimed furiously, scowling as he faced the Dwarf. "And yet you made me crawl through a hole that would be considered a tight fit for a_ hobbit?!" _

"Well, it was very funny." Gimli commented innocently.

It was Legolas' turn to attack, and his swipe met its target. He cuffed Gimli playfully on the back of the head, whilst the Dwarf doubled over with laughter.

"Peace, my friend, peace!" he choked, eyes watering as he struggled for breath amidst his cackling, whilst the Elf pummelled every inch of dwarf he could reach.

Legolas retracted, smiling in spite of himself.

"You sneaky cave-dwelling vermin!" he laughed, casting an amused glare at his friend. "Well, if you are finished misleading me, I would like to be shown the nearest exit. Preferably a more _dignified_ one this time."

Gimli, still grinning, got to his feet and began to lead the way through the cavern, followed closely by Legolas. As they walked, they passed through chambers that even in the dim torchlight could not be mistaken for anything but breathtaking.

Legolas murmured words of amazement under his breath in Sindarin, and despite the fact that the Dwarf did not know the tongue, he smiled smugly.

_"I would give gold to be excused, and double to be let out, if I strayed in!"_ Gimli said in a mocking, high-pitched tone, repeating the words Legolas had once related to the Glittering Caves. The Elf smiled sheepishly; suddenly aware of how foolish he must have sounded to Gimli at the time.

"Here we are. We are back where we started." Gimli announced, throwing an arm forwards to indicate the direction. "If you would fetch the horse, I will set up our beds in the main cavern."

Legolas nodded, and watched the Dwarf trail back into the tunnel. Once the small figure had disappeared into the darkness, Legolas strode purposefully back to their horse, who was standing idly by the tree where he had been left, chewing slowly at a clump of leaves.

As slender fingers worked to untie the knotted reins, his eyes darted around the mountainside. The watchful, spying eyes from the previous night were not by any means forgotten, and were the main reason Legolas had wished to retrieve their steed: it would be cruel to leave the animal alone and exposed when there were scouts of unknown purpose in the area.

Legolas led Arod back the way they had come, progressing more slowly than he had with Gimli. Unlike the Dwarf, his bearings underground were not as strong as in the open, and he carefully retraced their path back to the main chamber.

He glanced around the cavern in confusion: there was no sight of the Dwarf. His thoughts instantly flew to the image of the eyes. Panic filled his senses as he jumped to conclusions.

_Fool, I should not have left him alone, _Legolas cursed himself.

"Gimli?" he called out in alarm, his knuckles white with their tense grip on the reins. "Gimli!"

"I am here." said a gruff voice from behind him.

Legolas pivoted speedily, and sighed audibly in relief at the sight of the Dwarf.

"Miss me, did you?" Gimli commented, eyebrows raised curiously at the Elf's strange behavior.

"Indeed." Legolas replied, smiling slightly, stepping forwards to relieve the Dwarf of the bundles of blankets in his arms. Together they set up makeshift beds on the stone floor, whilst the horse sniffed around the cavern inquisitively.

"Tomorrow will be a day of exploration." Gimli announced, settling down onto his bed whilst Legolas did the same beside him. "If you think you have been awed by what you have seen thus far, you are in for a surprise indeed."

"I await it with baited breath." Legolas replied sincerely.

The Dwarf made a satisfied noise before falling silent, and within minutes his snores echoed through the cave.

Legolas lay there for a long while, staring up at the distant, glittering ceiling. He was far more comfortable here, hidden away in the vast cavernous maze of caves, than he had been the night previously. Indeed, he was almost at peace.

After some time had passed, his exhaustion won over, and his eyes flickered shut into a dreamless slumber.


	7. Chapter 7) Of Elves and Dwarves

CHAPTER 7. OF ELVES AND DWARVES

"Aaaaah!"

Legolas' eyes flew open at the sudden cry of distress from beside him. His hands reached immediately for his bow, which lay ready beside his bed. He leapt agilely to his feet, whipping an arrow out of his quiver and aiming it as he spun around.

"What in the name of Eru are you doing?" Gimli spluttered in alarm, finding himself at the end of a poised arrow and jumping backwards a few feet.

Legolas lowered his bow, frowning in puzzlement.

"I heard you yelling." he answered blankly, brow furrowed as he glared at the Dwarf accusingly.

"That's because I woke up to find this blasted _horse_," Gimli spat, pointing to the animal, which was standing a short distance from the Dwarf. "Sniffing around my face!"

Legolas sighed, setting his bow down on the floor. He stepped across to Arod, and placed a hand on the horse's muzzle, stroking its white coat with a slight smirk.

"I thought you were being attacked." he commented, directing an amused expression at the Dwarf, who returned it with a very displeased glare.

"You know I hate animals." Gimli said defensively. "As for this beast-"

"That 'beast' is one of the finest steeds in Gondor. You will recall, no doubt, that Arod was a gift from Eomer; he was trained by the horsemen of Rohan." Legolas stated, smirking. "But do not fret. It is a good thing you were awoken; I am eager to explore these caves."

"You should be." grumbled Gimli, recovering somewhat yet still appearing unnerved.

Legolas retrieved two servings of _lembas_ from their packs, and handed one to the Dwarf. He stripped off the mallorn leaf immediately and stuffed the portion of waybread into his mouth, watching the horse suspiciously as he chewed.

Legolas suppressed his laughter, not wishing to anger Gimli any more than he already was, and diverted his attention to the cavern around them. His sharp Elvish eyes surveyed the massive space with warm curiosity. The dark, rocky walls were familiar, though it took him a moment to recall why.

"These caves are much alike the Halls of Thranduil." he commented in surprise.

Gimli stopped chewing, and frowned deeply. "Thranduil? Isn't he-"

"Aye, my father." Legolas affirmed, still glancing around the cavern.

"If he is an Elf, then why does he have caves?" Gimli questioned.

Legolas laughed openly, his fair voice ringing through the space. "You, Master Gimli, seem to picture my kin as tree-dwelling nomads, wandering through the forests without aim nor consequence. I would have you know that the Mirkwood realm has many a network of caves and tunnels. There are Elven halls that would rival those of your people, I have no doubt, though I admit my knowledge of Dwarfish cities is limited."

"Elves, in caves? Never have I heard a stranger suggestion." Gimli scoffed.

"It is more than a mere suggestion. It is fact!" Legolas replied, eyes wide in surprise. "Have you never heard of the caves of Menegroth?"

"Do you take me for a fool, Legolas Greenleaf?" Gimli scoffed. "Those caves were made by my forefathers. They are the most famous creation of the Dwarfish people, aside from the mines of Moria."

"I take you not for a fool, dear Gimli, but for a somewhat _uneducated Dwarf_. Do not forget that Menegroth was of Elvish make. Dwarves were employed in the construction, for they had more experience in building underground, but the design was distinctly of the Eldar, the noble Elves of the First Age." Legolas stated correctingly.

"A minor detail." Gimli retorted dismissively.

Legolas held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "But regardless of their maker, the Halls of Thranduil were built in imitation of Menegroth. Below the hills of Mirkwood lies a labyrinth of tunnels, weaving deep into the ground. There are high, columned ceilings, not unlike those of Moria, and yes, they are filled with Elves of the woodland realm."

"Woodland Elves, living in caves." Gimli repeated, shaking his head in a somewhat awestruck manner. "It sounds to me as foolish as hobbits taking refuge in birds' nests!"

"Perhaps so, but it was not entirely of our choosing." Legolas uttered softly, with a somber smile.

"Not of your choosing?" Gimli repeated in confusion. "How would the habitation of caves be against your choosing, if Elves were their creators?"

"At the beginning of this age, before even I was born, the forests of Mirkwood were taken over by a shadowy presence. Places that were once beautiful became became dark and dangerous, and evil creatures took over the woods that the Elves had called home for centuries." Legolas murmured, face downcast in sadness brought about by the recollection of painful memories. "The cause of this shadow was the Necromancer, a dark sorcerer whose fortress lay in the south of Mirkwood. The fortress was called Dol Guldur, and the Necromancer was-"

"Sauron!" Gimli gasped. "This is a time in history that I am familiar with!"

Legolas raised his eyebrows. "What do you know of Dol Guldur?"

"Thràin II, holder of the last of the seven rings given to the Dwarf-lords, was taken into the fortress of Dol Guldur by Sauron, and imprisoned there until his death several years later." Gimli recited. "It is a well-known tale amongst my race, and the name of Dol Guldur still holds a shadowy place among the Dwarfish people."

"I can imagine; I had forgotten that the Dwarves, too, had a place in this story. For the most part it is a tale of the sorrows of Men, and of Elves. Indeed, it was the last instance where unity existed between these races, and those of Dwarves, also." Legolas stated pensively.

"I knew not of this alliance." Gimli said in surprise. "Never have I heard of Elves and Dwarves fighting their battles together!"

"They did not fight together." Legolas replied distantly. "The Elves fought their behalf."

Gimli gaped at the fair Elven face, and such was his confusion that Legolas felt the need to continue without prompt.

"By the time Thràin II was taken into Dol Guldor, hundreds of years had passed in Mirkwood. The Elves had been unable to destroy Sauron's fortress, and the darkness had spread through much of the forest. Yet we were not the only race with struggles." Legolas murmured in quiet explanation. "The Lonely Mountain had just been attacked by the dragon, Smaug, and your people were left dead, or else scattered. No army of Dwarves was left to reclaim Thràin, and so a battalion of Elves were sent from Mirkwood to reclaim him on their behalf."

"You are illustrating falsehoods!" Gimli spluttered angrily. "No battalion was sent forth from Mirkwood to rescue a _Dwarf._ Their king is Thranduil, and he despises my race!"

"Nay, my father is not fond of your kind. In fact, his resentment for your kindred runs very deep." Legolas admitted. "But there were those in Mirkwood who believed that we had a responsibility, for the sake of ancient allegiances with the Dwarves, to attempt to help him."

"Who? What Elf would think such a thing?" Gimli asked tauntingly.

"It was I." Legolas replied softly, diverting his eyes as though shameful. "I requested of my father that we lead a siege on Dol Guldur."

Gimli's jaw dropped, and his eyes bulged in shock. "You? How is it possible?"

"Remember, I had walked the lands of Middle-earth for hundreds of years before you were born, and will continue on indefinitely when you and your people fade from this earth. I was a mere century old, an Elfling by all common terms, but I had heard much of the conflict further south." Legolas uttered, his voice little more than a whisper. "My father, Thranduil, was not king at the time; his father, and my grandsire, Oropher, ruled the Greenwood. Oropher had equal distaste for the Dwarves as my father did, but I begged of him that we do something to help Thràin. Eventually, he listened."

"So you persuaded him to send troops to Dol Guldur?" Gimli asked incredulously.

"There were other forces at play; there was the danger that Sauron might attack our people, or else destroy more of the forest. But yes, for the most part, I was responsible." Legolas answered, his tone saddened for reasons the Dwarf could not comprehend.

"You were _responsible? _You make the gesture sound like one of cruelty, instead of kindness!" Gimli exclaimed. "Why does this sorrow you so?"

"I have not the heart to tell you, Gimli son of Glóin, for never again would you see me in the same light as you do now." Legolas replied, with a cold burst of laughter. "Nay, I have faced judgement enough. I do not need yours to add to my regret."

Gimli began to argue, but Legolas interrupted immediately.

"It is my burden to bear, and bear it I will!" he snapped, his face filled with cold fury, mingled with sorrow. "Now, is it your wish to examine these caves or not?"

Gimli was taken aback at the sudden outburst of anger, the likes of which he had never seen from his friend. The Elf's every fibre radiated with a dangerous fury, his eyes glowing fiercely with rage, and the Dwarf instinctively jumped back a few feet to escape his wrath.

Yet, as soon as it had come, Legolas' anger vanished. He frowned in puzzlement at Gimli's fearful expression, before he realized suddenly the cause of the Dwarf's fright. His shoulders slumped in shame, and his fair face was laden with horror.

"I am so sorry, my friend. Forgive me of my outburst." he murmured apologetically, blue eyes wide with pain and remorse.

"Forgive me, first, of my nosiness. It was not my place to inquire about your past." Gimli replied quietly.

"I blame you not in the slightest." Legolas said immediately.

"Then we have no quarrels." Gimli returned, a slight grin appearing beneath his unkempt beard.

The cheerful spark return to Legolas' eyes, his face unburdened and fair as ever it had appeared before. "I am overjoyed to hear it. Now, if you would do me the honor, I would much like to see these caves in their entirety."

"Nothing would please me more." Gimli agreed, getting to his feet with a grunt.

He stowed his blankets and supplies from overnight away into his pack, whilst Legolas fetched the horse, and trailed after him out into the branching network of tunnels. The Dwarf hummed cheerfully as he marched onwards through the rocky caverns, acting as though naught had hindered them, and not a sour word passed either of their lips.

_I am lucky to have a friend of this nature_, Legolas thought fondly. _Luckier than I deserve, as he would know if all were revealed to him of my past._

But Gimli's pace was fast, and did not allow the Elf time to ponder his thoughts as they set off through the caves, the Dwarf appearing for all the world as cheerful and unburdened as anyone could be.

~~~{###}~~~

As night fell over the White City, the King of Gondor's discomfort increased with every passing minute.

Aragorn paced his chambers anxiously, his echoing footsteps filling the silent void in the room. The days that had passed since Legolas' departure had been filled with unease, with guilt gnawing at his conscience. He had hoped that the feeling would fade, but his yearning to follow after his friend had only increased as time passed.

At Arwen's request, he had stayed in Minas Tirith, though his heart screamed against every moment he spent idle in the city whilst his comrade put more miles between them. It was not the first time they had been apart since the Quest, for his duties as king had often carried Aragorn away for weeks at a time. This time, though, the circumstances were entirely different; not only were they apart physically, but emotionally they had never felt so distant.

But the restlessness tore at him, his heart and mind occupied by the image of a Wood Elf's deep blue eyes, filled with agony and the sting of betrayal.

_I cannot allow him to endure that, _Aragorn thought firmly._ If I cannot erase the damage my words have inflicted, then I owe him at least my remorse. I must speak with him, face-to-face, and attempt to resolve some of what I have done... for the sake of us both._

His face hardened with steely resolve, and as soon as the opportunity arose he exited away from a discussion with the Captain of the Guard of the Citadel, sliding subtly away to his private chambers. There, he hastily stowed food and other necessities into a pack, before changing into clothes similar to those he had worn as a Ranger of the North - clothing made for travel. As an afterthought, he scribbled a note of explanation to Arwen, wincing as he imagined her reaction when she discovered what he had done.

Aragorn slunk down the staircase to the main courtyard, glancing around suspiciously, before crossing the cobblestone with carefully muted footsteps. His eyes fell onto the White Tree, the symbol of his kingship, and he paused with momentary hesitation as he considered his actions, before he straightened up resolutely and continued down to the stables.

Quietly slipping into the empty space, he located his horse, Hasufel, the steed he had ridden for much of the War of the Ring. He rushed to his side, placing a hand on his muzzle and stroking the dark coat pensively, considering the impact his actions might have.

"My lord?" Faramir inquired gently, appearing at the doorway and snapping the king from his thoughts.

"Ah, Faramir, come in." he replied hastily, spinning on his heel to face the man. "Is there a problem?"

"None, my lord. I merely wished to check upon you before tonight's counsel." Faramir responded, glancing at both the king's attire and location with confusion.

"Counsel?" Aragorn said blankly, his hand dropping from Hasufel's muzzle. "To which counsel do you refer?"

"The dignitaries from the north-west, my lord." he stated, brow furrowed.

"Oh Eru, I had forgotten entirely about the meeting." Aragorn groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead in frustration. "I was occupied by my thoughts, and the matter slipped my mind. When are they due to arrive?"

"Tonight, my lord. Any moment, I would assume." Faramir answered. "But Elessar, your clothes, and your pack... Were you intending to_ flee?"_

Aragorn turned away shamefully.

"_Flee_ is not the word I would use, for it is not _from_ someone I run, but to." he murmured, running a hand along Hasufel absentmindedly.

"Is it not fleeing when a king deserts his city, without reason nor explanation?" Faramir stated in exasperation. "My lord, I know that you yearn to follow Legolas, but your duty is here-"

"How long will my duty leave me trapped inside the city like a bird in cage?" Aragorn exploded in anger and frustration, spinning around to face the Steward. "Must _my duties_ always prevent me from doing what my heart desires? For how long must I disregard and ignore companions that have long proven themselves to be far more honorable than I?"

"You are no less honorable, my lord, despite the consequences of the decisions you have made. Your benefit to Gondor, and to Middle-earth, far outweighs the disservices you have performed." Faramir responded. When Aragorn made a noise of disagreement, he continued, "As for your duties barring your true desires... well, they do not. For your duties are to your heart also, in your love for the people of Gondor. You cannot please every resident of Middle-earth, Elessar-"

"I should at least be able appreciate and respect the wishes of those to whom I am closest." Aragorn cut in. "If I cannot provide that of those I hold dearest, then how can I be expected to do so for those that I have never even met?"

"The questions that you ask of me do not have simple answers." Faramir sighed. "And I have not the authority to prevent you from riding after Legolas, so all that I can do is beg of you: do not leave Minas Tirith tonight. The occasion may arise when it is suitable for you to leave the city, but this is not it. Please, my lord."

Aragorn's harsh expression softened somewhat.

"The dignitaries from the north-west are owed your counsel in return for their many miles of travel, and do not forget about Lady Arwen; she is with child, and is in need of your company." Faramir added softly in justification.

Aragorn's shoulders slumped, and he sighed. "You are correct, of course. I am deeply sorry, Faramir. It seems that you are always the one made to deal with me when I am at my most difficult. Indeed, it would appear that you are more worthy of the kingship than I!"

"It is not a task I perform with grudge." he replied modestly, with an understanding smile. "And your last statement is utter falsehood. Never before has a king been so adored by his people. Besides, I am quite content with being a Steward of Gondor, for I cannot imagine that I would withstand the pressure of the kingship as well as you. Nobody else in Middle-earth could achieve the tasks you perform daily. Do not doubt yourself, Elessar, nor your strength. You have wisdom and courage that even you do not realize."

And with that, the two men retreated back up to the White Tower, for the moment not a King and Steward of Gondor, but merely two companions, one offering all the help they could for a friend in pain.


	8. Chapter 8) At Liability

CHAPTER 8. AT LIABILITY

Dashing back from the stables with long, hasty strides, Aragorn had soon returned to the White Tower. He left Faramir to greet their guests, whilst he retreated and reluctantly changed out of his Ranger clothing and changed back into the formal wear of a king, mentally cursing himself for his idiocy.

_What would the people of Gondor think of their king if they knew of his cowardice? _Aragorn fumed, removing his well-worn travel boots and replacing them with unnecessary violence.

He turned towards the doorway, eyes widening in surprise. He found Arwen standing at the doorway, her face filled with suppressed rage and the note explaining his would-be departure clutched in her slender hand.

"What is this, Estel?" she asked, her tone dangerous as she held up the parchment.

"I... Arwen, I can explain-" he began calmly.

"No, not now." she snapped abruptly. "Your guests have already arrived, and it would not do to be any later than you already are. Go."

Aragorn opened his mouth to speak, but at the cold look on Arwen's fair elven face he fell silent and left the room, his mind swirling once more with cold self-abuse.

_Am I incapable of making a single decision that does not harm those around me?_ he asked himself furiously, stomping down the stairs towards the counsel chambers.

He stopped just short of the bottom, and took a moment to compose himself before entering the room. He sighed wearily, but erased the exhaustion and burden from his face, replacing it with the well-practiced (yet feigned) expression of levelheadedness and nobility, as was expected of him.

"King Elessar." Faramir said in greeting, bowing his head in acknowledgment as Aragorn entered the room.

"Lord Faramir." he replied, smiling at the Steward in an attempt to hide his disgruntled mood. "And these must be our guests. Welcome to the White City! My deepest apologies on my lateness; we are burdened with much work at the moment, as you no doubt are aware."

"Of course, my lord, it is not an issue." replied one of the dignitaries, stepping forwards and bowing slightly. "We can relate to that problem, I assure you."

"This is Lord Brandir, sire." Faramir explained.

"Ah, I have heard much of your tireless efforts." Elessar said warmly, vaguely recalling a discussion about the man in weeks previous. "You were responsible for directing our soldiers in the disbanding of several rebel bands in the north-west, am I correct?"

"Yes, my lord. We have been plagued by rogue followers of Sauron, attacking villages and plundering anything of value." Lord Brandir stated. "And I am ashamed to say that they are not all Orcs, my lord. There are Men among them!"

"Men?" Aragorn repeated, frowning. "Men of the East?"

"Yes, sire, or so we assume. Our guesswork says that they originate from the Sea of Rhûn." Lord Brandir replied.

"We have not been plagued by those Men since the siege resulting in the death of King Ondoher. But that was nigh on 1,000 years ago. They could not possibly be from the Sea of Rhûn." Aragorn disagreed.

Now it was the dignitaries' turn to frown.

"The point you make is relevant." Lord Brandir said finally, after a poignant pause. "This matter is one we must discuss, along with the other causes for which we travelled to Minas Tirith."

"You must be tired from your travels." Aragorn said quickly. "I had forgotten that you travelled many miles for this counsel. Let us be seated, and rest your weary bodies. I will summon food and wine, and we can be comfortable."

True to his word, Aragorn led them into one of the formal dining rooms, and soon the dozen or so dignitaries, as well as himself and his Steward, were seated. The table was burdened with the best food the royal kitchens could provide, and as soon as the guests had taken their sustenance, discussion resumed.

"We had assumed the Men attacking us were from the Sea of Rhûn, mainly because there was nowhere else from whence they could come. Most of the the Men of the East fought and were killed in battle before the Black Gates, and few remain. We have not heard of any Men from southward, either." Lord Brandir pondered.

"The strangest thing is that some of the intruders seems almost _Gondorian_." commented one of the younger dignitaries pensively.

"What do you mean by that?" Aragorn asked sharply. "Lord...?"

"Hirluin. I am Lord Hirluin." he replied quickly. "I have led our soldiers in pursuit of the rebels. The groups we have observed are not in high number, but they seem organized. Their tactics are that of our own armies, and they speak in our tongue. If I did not know better, I would say they were traitors from within the kingdom itself!"

"Traitors?" Aragorn repeated in horror, a chill running down his spine and his face paling visibly; nothing could be worse news for a king.

"That is impossible." Faramir interjected, glancing at Aragorn's horror stricken face with concern. "There are no traitors of Gondor."

"I agree. I know Men of high ranking from throughout the kingdom, and I am constantly told of the warm reception to the return of the king. These Men are not of our own kin." Lord Brandir stated firmly, glancing at Lord Hirluin sternly. "It is wrong to even discuss such a matter! It is a betrayal of the trust in our people."

"And yet it is a relevant concern." Lord Hirluin said stubbornly. "If we cannot find intruders from outside the kingdom, is it not logical to seek it _within_?"

"Perhaps we are merely looking in the wrong place." Aragorn suggested. "But I see no point in further speculating. That will merely provide suspicion and doubt from within our own walls, which will do naught to benefit the situation."

"Wise words, King Elessar." Lord Brandir said in agreement. "Let us lighten the mood for a moment. Tell us of the White City. Not often do we get news from the capital."

"What can I say? Time passes much the same as it always has." Aragorn answered lightly, taking a sip from his goblet whilst he thought. "We are still rebuilding, as you no doubt noticed upon arrival, but we are beginning to settle back into life in the days of peace. Long has it been since the people of Minas Tirith lived without trace of fear, but soon enough we will readjust to normality."

"That is welcome news indeed." Lord Brandir said, smiling.

"And what of yourselves? How are you faring in the north-west?" Aragorn replied. "I am eager to visit Erech and the northern provinces. Long have I wished to see that land again, and to travel westward over the White Mountains."

"We would welcome your presence, my lord, but perhaps it is not best to travel the mountains. Not at the moment, at least." Lord Hirluin interjected.

"Why?" Aragorn asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"We have observed a... presence, in the mountains." Lord Hirluin said hesitantly.

Aragorn's heart skipped a beat.

"In the north-west?" he repeated weakly.

"Yes, my lord. In the White Mountains." Lord Hirluin affirmed.

Aragorn's hand began to shake so violently that he set down his goblet for fear that he would spill its contents. Legolas and Gimli had planned to journey along the White Mountains - what if they had strayed into the path of danger, or an unknown enemy?

"Of what type is this _presence_?" Aragorn asked, frowning deeply.

"Men." Lord Brandir answered plainly. "That is all we know of them. We assumed that they were rebels, from the Sea of Rhûn like the others, but it is mere guesswork, for we have scarcely encountered them."

"There are Men of unknown purpose and origin hiding in the kingdom - why was I not told of this?" the King asked angrily, staring at Faramir with accusation

"Well, the sightings occurred just over the Rohan border, so it was not really of our concern-" Lord Brandir began sheepishly.

"Of course it was _of our concern_. There are potential - and probable - enemies, hiding in mountains that people of Gondor can readily access!" Aragorn snapped, his voice quaking with anger.

"The sightings were f-from further n-north." Lord Hirluin stammered. "There was little chance of any such attacks."

"In any case, it is not protocol for us to inform the king of every rebel band we encounter, else we would be in constant, never-ending correspondence!" Lord Brandir exclaimed.

"Further north? Where _exactly_?" Aragorn questioned impatiently, completely ignoring Lord Brandir's comment, however logical it may have been.

"Just across the border, in Rohan. Around the region of Helm's Deep." he answered blankly.

Aragorn felt his face pale several shades, and his chest constricted with panic and fear. He stood bolt upright, his mind racing. He stood for a moment, frozen to the spot with dread.

"My lord, are you alright?" Faramir asked, deeply concerned, whilst the dignitaries exchanged looks of bewilderment.

"If you would excuse me for a moment." he managed to choke out, before striding from the chamber.

As soon as the door had swung shut behind him, a strangled cry escaped his lips. His head swam in disorientation, and he placed a hand onto the wall to steady himself. A tidal wave of fear crashed over him, and it took all of his restraint to prevent him from falling to the floor in despair.

_Not only have I driven you from the city, Legolas, but now I have placed you yet again in danger, _Aragorn thought sorrowfully._ It would seem that I alone have brought you more peril than all of Sauron's forces combined!_

"Estel!" gasped a voice suddenly from behind him. "Estel, what is the matter?"

Arwen rushed to his side, her beautiful face no longer filled with the cold anger of before, but with deep worry. She stared at him in concern, examining his defeated pose with confusion.

"Legolas and Gimli may be in great peril." he uttered hoarsely in reply, eyes downcast.

"Great peril? How, and of what nature?" Arwen queried, frowning.

"The visiting dignitaries have observed Men, hiding in the mountains." Aragorn said desolately. "They are near Helm's Deep."

Arwen gasped. "Men? Rebels?"

"Perhaps." Aragorn said uncertainly. "Though they know barely anything of them. Lord Brandir assumed that they were rebels from the Sea of Rhûn. But I am not so certain. We have not been plagued by those Men for centuries. Arwen, I fear they may be traitors of Gondor."

"Nay. That is impossible." Arwen said immediately. "Estel, they could not-"

"Why could they not? I would not blame them for abandoning the new king!" he replied bitterly.

Arwen sighed, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"You may have made some wrong decisions in the past, Estel, but that does not mean that every problem in the kingdom is of your liability. You cannot blame yourself for this." she murmured softly.

"He is in danger, Arwen, when he should not be. Has Legolas not been through enough in this war? Both of them, he _and_ Gimli, have fought for me and my people, without complaint or query. The whole war was not even truly theirs to fight in, for it was Men that Sauron primarily fought to vanquish. And now, when they have both earned freedom from combat, they are once again at risk of it..." Aragorn moaned.

"They may not come into harm, Estel. We do not know enough to be able to make judgement." Arwen said calmly.

"We know nothing, Arwen! We are facing an enemy that we know nothing about!" Aragorn moaned, pulling anxiously at his dark hair.

"We cannot be certain that these Men are even enemies." Arwen pointed out. "But it is beside the point - just because there is a risk does not mean that it will occur."

"But what if it does? Fate has never been on our side before. Why should it be now?" Aragorn replied coldly.

Arwen sighed, running a hand along his arm reassuringly.

"There is nothing that can be done now. I suppose we must merely hope for the best." she murmured gently. "But remember, you are _Estel_. You _are_ hope, as your namesake suggests. You are the hope of our people, the light when all else had failed. Have faith in your own strength, and it will carry you through this."

Aragorn nodded slowly, straightening up and returning to a noble, dignified pose. Yet his face bore the signs of his weariness, and his eyes shone with the reawakened sting of guilt.

"Your dignitaries will be awaiting your presence." Arwen added gently. "After their travels, you ought not to keep them waiting."

"Indeed, yes." Aragorn muttered absentmindedly, before staring up at his wife, face laden with gratitude. "Arwen, I am eternally thankful-"

"It is no burden." she said lightly, smiling warmly at the King. "You had best get back to your council."

Aragorn opened his mouth to reply, but she had already begun walking away. Just as she was about to turn the corner, she spun back to face him with a mischievous smile.

"And do not assume that I have forgotten about your attempted _runaway_." she added, smirking. "But I can wait until later to discuss that matter with you."

Aragorn winced in mock horror, but couldn't prevent a smile from flittering across his face. As Arwen walked out of sight, he exhaled deeply, clearing from his mind all of the worry and pain he could, replacing it with bearing and nobility. He opened the doors hesitantly, and re-entered the chamber, very conscious of the watchful eyes following his footsteps.

"Forgive me, my friends. I had an urgent personal matter to attend to, but now all is well once more." Aragorn apologized, smiling warmly in concealment of his true reasoning. "But enough of this talk about Minas Tirith. You came to seek my counsel, did you not?"

"Indeed, my lord." Lord Brandir agreed.

Aragorn spread his arms welcomingly. "I am waiting with ready ears, and will do my best to give of you the answers you seek from me."

Conversation waned into the typical type of counsel Aragorn was usually sought of; discussions of military tactics, alliances, dealing with the general population, and of the rebuilding processes in place following their destruction in the war. He had no difficulty with these questions, for every day he answered ones much the same.

Indeed, the greatest difficulty was feigning interest in petty matters such as squabbles over land and property. Aragorn did his best to act as a welcoming and politely curious host, whilst attempting to erase the memory of his strange behavior by cheerfully calling for more food and wine, and ensuring the goblets of his guests were continually refilled.

When night had at last fallen outside the windows of the White Tower, Aragorn was relieved to be able to conclude their meeting and escape to privacy, where his facade of peace and nonchalance could finally be removed.

"Friends, it is late, and you are no doubt still tired from your travels. Let my people lead you to our guest chambers, where you can rest unhindered." he stated, with a casual air. "That is, if I have given you all that you require of my counsel."

"Of course, my lord, and it is received gratefully." Lord Hirluin replied on behalf of the group. "But we are indeed fatigued, and will need our strength for the journey home."

The king rose, and the others followed, each bowing or murmuring thanks to their host, who replied with well-feigned pleasure. Gradually the dignitaries trickled out of the room, and the door swung shut at last.

Immediately Aragorn slumped into the nearest chair, sighing with both physical exhaustion and weariness of mind brought about by much worry and concern.

"You gave good counsel, Aragorn." Faramir said quietly, pacing behind the king's seat. "Even after you were unsettled."

"Was I that obvious?" Aragorn said with a scornful laugh.

"Not at all. On the contrary, you are getting rather better at concealing your true emotions. I am not sure that is an entirely good thing, though." Faramir replied, frowning slightly.

Aragorn replied with nothing but a heaved sigh.

"You should sleep, Aragorn. Today has been taxing on you." the Steward prompted. "A good night's sleep would do you much good."

Aragorn was doubtful of whether mere rest could heal him of the wounds he had dealt himself. Yet he rose silently, nodded gratefully once more at Faramir, and exited the hall.

He ascended the spiraling staircases with clumsily drowsy feet, arriving finally at a door adorned with a carved tree, above which sat seven stars; the symbol of the King of Gondor. His hand froze on the handle as he stared up at the carving, taking more stock than usual in what the image represented. He pushed the door open, shaking away the doubts circling in his mind, and entered the private sanctuary of his and Arwen's personal chambers.

The spacious room was unlit, but the dim moonlight allowed enough visibility to see the elegant chamber reasonably clearly. It was simply furnished, to the taste of both of its residents, but for an ornately carved bed of honey-colored wood that took pride of place in the center of the room. Silky curtains billowed at the windows, and a door, open wide, led out onto the balcony which overlooked the White City.

"You are finished at last." came the voice of his wife from the balcony.

"You did not have to wait." he replied reprovingly, closing the door behind him and joining her, glancing over the city lights below.

"It was my wish to." she replied simply, turning to him with a slightly sad smile. "I thought that perhaps you wanted to discuss today's happenings."

He remained unspoken, uncertain as to how to respond, and allowed the night wind to fill the silence. He shivered slightly from the cold, and glanced sideways in wonder at Arwen, who was clothed only in a gown of thin silken material yet stood unaffected by the chill. Not for the first time he envied her Elvish blood, and could recall too many occasions when her immunity from extreme cold would have been more than useful.

Arwen heard his shiver, and coupled with his silence, mistook it for fear.

"Estel, they will not come to harm." she said firmly. "Gimli and Legolas are more than capable of such a journey. You need not go after them."

"I know that to be true, yet my heart tells a different tale. Even before I heard of these mysterious Men in the White Mountains, I wished to follow Legolas, to let him see of my remorse. But now that it is revealed of the danger I may have placed him in, the desire burns only the stronger." Aragorn replied, staring searchingly out at the distant horizon.

"Do you not think I miss him also? Legolas was like a brother to me, Estel. I mourn his departure just as much as you do." Arwen responded firmly, before her voice softened. "I understand your burden, Estel. I too wish for Legolas to return to the city unbegrudged, and I would do anything within my means to keep him from harm."

"Is it not better to attempt to keep him from harm, even if it does not prevail?" Aragorn questioned provokingly.

"Not if Gondor loses its king in the process." Arwen snapped angrily.

Aragorn drew back hastily in surprise, while Arwen sighed softly.

"To follow seems like the obvious solution. But to escape the city in desperate chase will do nought to help him. You know better than most that no Man could catch a Firstborn on a horse. It would be fruitless labor," she murmured softly. "and the danger it would place you in would be more than it is worth to attempt such an act."

"I would be in no more danger than any other traveller." Aragorn argued. "I would be dressed in Ranger's clothing, and no one would be any the wiser-"

"Yet past experience should tell you that you have a tendency of ending up in less than ideal situations." Arwen said, giving him a stern look. "You may not go looking for it, Estel, but danger greets you at every turn you take."

"Then if anything I have become accustomed to it, and know how to act when it comes!" Aragorn replied fiercely.

"Does it slip your mind that I am with child? Do you expect me to raise your son or daughter, the heir of Gondor, husbandless and alone?" Arwen retaliated. "I cannot lose you, Estel, nor can this kingdom lose its king yet again. You cannot pursue Legolas. It is an unachievable mission."

Aragorn's expression softened at these words, his noble features marred by grief and uncertainty. His grey eyes were downcast, and his brow was bent with worry.

"It was foolish of me to ponder departure." he murmured finally, staring out at the starry night before him. "Nay, I cannot leave this city, nor the responsibilities that come with it. But I must tell Legolas and Gimli of the danger they are in."

Arwen opened her mouth to argue, but Aragorn continued immediately.

"I do not mean to follow myself." he said quickly, glancing at her reassuringly. "But we have many soldiers at our disposal, do we not? What if I were to send a scout after them, to inform them _on my behalf?_ Surely that could do no damage."

"It is certainly a better idea than the king himself riding off." Arwen concluded, though her tone was slightly uneasy. "And if it will keep you safe, then I am much gladdened."

"Then it is settled. The Captain of the Guard will be asleep, considering the hour, but come morning I will request that he send one of his men." Aragorn decided. "Perhaps some of my guilt may then be abated."

"Yet, guiltful or otherwise, you too must rest." Arwen responded, turning away from the city and stepping towards the doorway. "Sometimes I think you forget that you, too, need sleep. You may be a king, but you are still a mortal Man, and you need rest as readily as any other."

Too weary to protest, Aragorn followed Arwen back indoors. As an afterthought, he kicked off his boots, before falling back onto the bed covers. His exhaustion winning over, his eyelids drooped shut, and within moments he was drifting through dreams scattered with haunted memories, and the nervous sense of imminent attack.


	9. Chapter 9) Pursuit

CHAPTER 9. PURSUIT

Rarely before had Legolas seen Gimli so enthusiastic about something as he was in the days that followed, comprising of their exploration of the caves in as much detail as the dwarf could mange.

Gimli knew the area well from his previous visit, and seemed determined to persuade the Elf of the grandeur of the caverns. This, he deduced, was best done by showing his Elvish friend as much as he could. No cave, tunnel or rocky outface, be they large, small, grand, or seemingly insignificant, went unobserved, and Legolas, not wishing to offend the Dwarf, performed a flawless imitation of awe and curiosity that extended over even the least outstanding of locations.

Yet not all was feigned, for their travels brought them to images of serenity and splendor such as neither of them had observed before. There were huge, towering rock forms, and endless lakes of dark water, reflecting diamond-covered ceilings. Naturally carved tunnels led deep into the mountain, where there lay halls that could rival those at Moria. There were wide rooms of polished stone, and those with walls that shone with crystals.

Elven eyes, centuries old, examined such caverns with astonished interest, whilst the biased dwarfish ones eyed them with smug satisfaction. Yet, reluctant though he may be to admit it, Legolas had never before had he seen caves the likes of these, and for all the world never expected to find any as spectacular. Even the Halls of Thranduil, the grand Elvish fortresses where he had spent his childhood, had not a portion of the vastness and beauty held by the Glittering Caves.

"The mountains hold treasures to which the forest bears no comparison." Gimli repeated constantly, and such was the spectacle of what he observed that Legolas _almost _found himself in agreement.

And yet, in all he saw Legolas found reminders of days passed, subtle hints of memories that surfaced painfully as he recalled moments spent with what was once his closest friend, or else of his childhood in Mirkwood that now seemed so long ago.

He was cautious to dismiss these memories and suppress the emotions that came with them, conscious of Gimli's constant observation - since his outburst days previous, the dwarf had kept a close watch on him in case a similar occasion arose. He could sense Gimli's concern, but also his curiosity, for his anger had made his friend suspicious.

_He would not guess of what I have done, even in his darkest nightmares,_ Legolas conceded bitterly. _But nor will he guess, so for that I must be grateful._

"Ah, I remember this cavern distinctly!" Gimli exclaimed suddenly, snapping Legolas sharply from his thoughts.

He led the way through a rocky archway into an impossibly large, dark space. The walls, unlike those of many of the other caverns, were not embedded with gemstones or _mithril_, and yet the sharp, blackened stone held much beauty in its own right. But the most defining feature of the space was the underground river running through the center of the room. The thundering noise of a rapid river crashed through the cavern, deafeningly loud

"It was to here that Éomer and I were forced by the Orcs and Uruk-hai." Gimli explained, yelling to make his voice heard over the roar of the river. "We were trapped between the enemy and the underground river, and forced to fight our way out... In fact, it was here that I gained the upper hand in our little competition. Do you recall our contest of counting kills, my Elvish friend?"

"How could I forget? It was a fierce competition." he replied, determinedly looking anywhere but at the dwarf's smug face.

"And yet I won, did I not? By a margin of..." Gimli asked gloatingly.

"One." Legolas said, smiling. "You won by a _narrow _one kill. But so glad was I that you made it out of the caves alive that I did not begrudge the fact."

"That was a foolish line of thought; I had my axe, I was bound to make it out alive! No Orc can take down an armed Dwarf!" Gimli stated with complete certainty.

"Of course, how foolish of me." Legolas said, laughing gently.

The pair fell silent, taking in their surrounds and listening to the sound of the water crashing against stony shores.

Suddenly Legolas was reminded of a similar location, although an entirely unrelated situation, and a memory flashed through his mind that he could not suppress. He felt his stance weaken with the mere recollection of a time so riddled with bitterness, one that continually circulated his thoughts even so long after the event had occurred.

_The dark, foreboding cliffs rose to meet a cloudy sky. The roar of the river echoed in their ears, whilst a cold wind whipped overhead. Amidst the black waters travelled three small boats, amongst them eight unlikely companions - the remainder of the Fellowship of the Ring. They were in poor spirits, cowering under their cloaks from the icy gale, each traveller's thoughts fixated hopefully on the idea of warmth._

_The boats sailed forth, and into view came two towering statues wrought from stone. Their features were clear despite the tumultuous weather, with beautiful, noble faces - that of the Argonath, Elven kings of times long gone by. Legolas gazed up at the figures with mingled reverence and foreboding, for the river and the rock had given him a deep sense of uneasiness._

_"Fear not!" called Aragorn from behind them, his bearing noble and a light shining in his grey eyes. The wind whipped at his dark hair as he commanded the boat forwards with skillful strokes. "Fear not! Long have I desired to look upon the likeness of Isildur and Anárion, my sides of old. Under their shadow Elessar, the Elfstone of Arathorn of the House of Valandil Isildur's son, heir of Elendil, has nought to dread!"_

_Then, in a voice so quiet that only Legolas' sharp Elvish ears could hear, he added in dismay: "Would that Gandalf was here! How my heart yearns for Minas Anor and the walls of my own city! But whither now shall I go?"_

Even the memory of these words brought a look of coldness and resentment to Legolas' features.

_'Would that Gandalf was here!' Was I not a sufficient companion? Was I not enough for the heir of Isildur_? Legolas thought bitterly. _Through every rash decision and unfounded accusation I stood by him, without question or doubt. I was at his side for every moment of the Quest, and fought both with and for him in battle. Even now, I have sought to assist in the rebuilding of his kingdom, leaving behind my home and my people._

_Was he blind to all of it?_

_If he were not, then he would have been able to answer his own question. 'Whither now shall I go?' To me, Aragorn, _he thought, almost pleadingly._ To my arms, open as they had been since the day we met, and my ears, ready and willing to hear and comfort you from your uncertainties and fears._

It was at moments like these that he would turn away from Gimli in an attempt to hide himself, his face an open book to his suffering. Gimli interpreted his silence as awe, instead of bitter reminiscing, and for the most part left him to his thoughts.

The company of Elf and Dwarf went on, and the day passed by almost without their knowledge. Little did they tire, for they were too busy observing the caves around them to take any notice. Legolas was somewhat relieved with the time they were taking, despite the reawakening of old memories and grievances, because it delayed the decision of moving out into the open, and into the path of watchful eyes. The journey to the Fangorn Forest would leave them entirely vulnerable to attack, and the Elf dreaded the miles that lay between them and the relative safety of the trees.

When they sensed that night had fallen (for there was no means of telling, deep in the mountain as they were), the pair stopped at last. Gimli set about lighting a fire using the wood from his pack, and set the cave into a warm and merry glow.

"I am glad, Gimli, that I was fortunate enough to see this place." Legolas sighed happily, stretching out comfortably in front of the crackling flames.

"As am I, Elf, as am I." he agreed. "Though I realize now for certain that my people could never mine these caves."

"No?" Legolas inquired in surprise.

"No." Gimli repeated, slightly bitterly. "No, we could not. No Dwarf could ever besmirch this place by taking its treasures. No 'Gimli son of Glòin, King Under the Mountain', regrettably."

"Ah, alas, perhaps it is for the best." Legolas replied wisely.

The sound of the fire filled the cavern for a few moments, as the two friends merely enjoyed their surroundings.

"There is only one thing that could be better about this visit." Gimli sighed.

"And that is?"

"If Aragorn were here."

Legolas felt a lump rise in his throat. He struggled for a moment to keep his fair face indifferent, but, sensing that he was doing a poor job, turned away so as to hide his look of pain from Gimli.

"It is foolish to suggest such a thing, but I know he would enjoy this place." Gimli went on. "Of course, he is far too busy to have time to explore caves. He has a kingdom to rule!"

Legolas did not trust his voice not to falter, so replied with a brief: "That is true."

"He has changed, though. Aragorn, I mean." Gimli continued, staring pensively into the flames.

"We all have." Legolas said, his tone instinctively defensive in protection of his friend. "The Quest has had a huge effect on every one of us."

"Not on me it hasn't." Gimli disagreed gruffly.

"No, perhaps not you, the resilient Dwarf that you are." Legolas mused. "But for the rest of us..."

He trailed off uncertainly, allowing the crackling of the fire to fill the empty silence.

"Do you regret it?" Gimli asked suddenly.

"Regret what?" Legolas responded, frowning slightly in confusion.

"The Quest." Gimli answered. "Do you regret being sent on the Quest by Lord Elrond?"

When Legolas did not respond, Gimli elaborated.

"I mean to say that... Sometimes, I resent being sent on such a suicide mission. Of course, it all worked out in the end, but for a long while I was doubtful. We had to face terrible things, and battle our way out of more tight corners than we can name. We had to watch Man and Elf alike fall. It was no light burden. Do you regret it being placed upon you?"

Legolas hesitated before answering.

"No." he said finally, his tone soft and thoughtful. "No, I do not. For without the darkness and despair of the Quest, none of us could truly appreciate the light and happiness of the days of peace. The shadow has passed, by the blood of a great many people, but now Middle-earth may be allowed to endure."

Gimli glanced up at Legolas in surprise, obviously not anticipating the answer he had received.

"Besides, without the Quest I would never have met you." Legolas added quickly. "Never would I have dreamt of gaining the friendship of Gimli, son of Glòin. Nor would I have met four fine hobbits of the Shire, or a Steward of the distant realm of Gondor. As for Gandalf, well, he would be merely a name heard in tales."

"And, do not forget, you would never have become the closest comrade of the heir of Isildur." Gimli pointed out.

"No." Legolas said, after a slight hesitation. "No, I would not."

They both drew silent, whilst Legolas warmed his slender hands by the flames.

"Yes, he has changed, Aragorn has." Gimli conceded. "More than the rest of us, in my opinion. He is quicker to anger, and slower in appreciating his comrades."

"Sometimes a king must make decisions that do not favor everyone." Legolas noted softly, his eyes downcast.

"Yes, I suppose they must." he agreed. "And Aragorn will be a great king, there can be no doubt of that."

Legolas looked away from the Dwarf again to hide his anguish._ He will be a great king, but at what expense?_ Legolas thought sadly. _The expense of his freedom? Or at the expense of his friends, perhaps._

He quickly wiped away the wetness on his long lashes, begging for Gimli to be too preoccupied with the caves to notice the subtle movement. For now, his hopes were affirmed, as the Dwarf glanced around the cavern pensively.

"Well, I am reluctant to visit this Fangorn Forest, after seeing once again the majesty of the caves." Gimli stated, glancing across at Legolas. The Elf snapped out of his thoughts, and gave a poor attempt at a smile.

"They have a very different type of beauty about them." Legolas replied. "They possess perhaps not the grandeur, but they far outdo the caves in other ways, I assure you."

"I do not see how." Gimli commented skeptically. "When last I visited that woodland, I thought of nothing but how I wished to exit it as soon as I was able."

"Have an open mind, my friend." Legolas said. "The forest will not disappoint you. You have my word."

"Yours is a word I trust, so for now I am comforted." Gimli said brightly. "Do we begin our travels tomorrow?"

"If we have seen enough of the caves, I suppose we must." Legolas replied.

Gimli smiled with superiority. "Reluctant to leave the caverns, are you?"

_Yes, but not for the reasons you believe_, Legolas thought uncomfortably, the image of enemy eyes flashing briefly through his mind.

"Perhaps that is true." he responded plainly, avoiding the Dwarf's eyes in case his own gave hint of his concealment.

"Well, we have seen all that I can show you of the Glittering Caves. We have walked some miles these past days!" Gimli commented. "And for my part, I have convinced an Elf of the beauty to be found in stone and metal. I consider that a feat in itself!"

"As you should." Legolas agreed, laughing mildly. "Now all there is to see is whether I can do the same of a Dwarf and the forest.

"We will see." Gimli grumbled, lounging down onto his blankets and closing his eyes. "Yes, we will see about that indeed."

~~~{###}~~~

Hundreds of miles away, a rider was readying himself for departure in the stables of the White Tower. He frowned slightly, considering the strange circumstances under which he had been assigned the role he was about to perform.

_"Tirion." called a voice from across the courtyard. _

_The guard turned, expecting to see a fellow soldier, but was instead greeted by the King of Gondor, his bearing noble as he strode across the cobblestone towards him._

_"My lord." Tirion replied, so taken aback at the king's casual use of his first name that he almost forgot to bow. He arched over clumsily, almost dropping his spear in the process._

_Aragorn smirked in obvious amusement, and when he spoke, his tone was pleasant and conversational. "How fare you, Tirion?"_

_"Very well, my lord. And yourself?" the guard replied, somewhat bewildered by the spontaneous conversation with a man so far above him in ranking._

_"I have fared better." Aragorn sighed wearily, as though confiding in a close friend. "I come to you with a request, though, if I may be so discourteous to admit it."_

_"Of course, my lord. How may I assist you?" Tirion replied, still in shock that the king knew of his existence, let alone his name and position._

_"I have heard that you have great prowess at riding, am I correct?" Aragorn inquired._

_"I am a fair rider." he replied modestly, shrugging lightly._

_"I am also told that you are quite the tracker." the king added. "Is this also true?"_

_"Aye, my lord, it is." Tirion answered, nodding._

_"Excellent, for I require someone with both of these skills. I have a task that I need attended to, as urgently as possible." Aragorn explained. "I need someone to track down a steed and its riders that set off from the city, nigh on a week ago."_

_"I would be honored, my lord, though I am on duty to patrol the tower-"_

_"I have already spoken to the Captain of the Guard, and arranged for a replacement." Aragorn admitted. "I assumed you would agree. Please forgive my presumptuousness."_

_"Of course." Tirion replied immediately, smiling reassuringly. "So when I am to ride off?"_

_"Tonight, as soon as night has fallen." Aragorn answered. "The roads will be less busy, as you may need to travel by them for some stretch of the journey." _

_"Certainly, my lord. What of the rider, and the steed? Can you tell me for whom I am searching?" the guard asked. "I do not wish to pry, but I will need these details."_

_"Of course, I understand full well. I have had many a long year's time spent tracking, believe it if you will." Aragorn said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "The steed is one of Rohan, the riders an Elf and a Dwarf."_

_Tirion's eyes widened in sudden comprehension; only one such duo existed in the minds of the people of Minas Tirith, and both were well-known to the point where they were celebrities in Gondor. "They are not... they could not be Prince Legolas and Master Gimli, could they?_

_Aragorn's composure slipped somewhat, but he replaced it in a moment with a feigned grin. "You are too wise for my deceptions, Tirion. Indeed, they are. I have urgent need of them both, for matters that are my own business, if I may allow them to remain so."_

_"Certainly, my lord." the soldier replied quickly. _

_"I am in your debt, Tirion." Aragorn said gratefully, bowing his head respectfully, before turning and walking away, leaving the guard (in a slightly delirious state) in his wake._

Tirion was still in shock at the conversation, even hours later. It was not often that a guard was held in discussion with the very lord he was employed to protect, and even stranger was it that he had been sought out by name.

It occurred to the man, as he threw the saddle over his horse's back, that not only was this unusual, but strangely _desperate. _Why would the ruler of a kingdom so well-equipped and influential personally seek out someone to perform such a seemingly trivial errand?

_Perhaps the tales of the war are true, _Tirion pondered, tightening the saddle pensively. _There have been more than rumors of such matters. Many times it has been said that that Elf and the king are more than mere comrades-in-arms, but never before had I realized its accuracy. Obviously the king holds them both in high honor._

The door creaked open noisily, and Tirion spun around quickly. The door swung open to reveal Aragorn, his face serious and concerned.

"Tirion." he murmured in greeting. "I am relieved to see you here."

"Surely you did not believe I would go back on my word?" Tirion replied with a crooked grin.

Aragorn laughed lowly, a reluctant smile appearing on his weary face. "Of course not, but still, I was concerned."

"You need not worry. I will find them, my lord." Tirion stated with certainty, head held high. "Even if I perish in the task."

Aragorn laughed, but the sound was strained, and the merriment did not meet his eyes. "I thoroughly hope it will not come to that, my friend."

Tirion smiled comfortingly, and did the final adjustments on his saddle before leaping expertly up onto the horse. "Well, if you have naught else to tell me, I would be off."

"I believe that is all, except for one last matter. When you find them, please give this to Legolas." Aragorn requested, holding out a parchment envelope.

Tirion glanced at the letter, his eyes falling upon the wax seal, which bore the crest of the kingship of Gondor. After a moment of reverential hesitance he took it, and stowed it carefully into his pack.

"Go with speed, Tirion." Aragorn urged him, stepping back from the steed.

The guard turned and spurred forwards. The doors were flung open, and horse and rider were off, engulfed by the blackness of the night.

"_Quel marth_, _mellon nin." _Aragorn murmured softly, staring out into the darkness. "Good luck."


	10. Chapter 10) Beneath the Eaves of Fangorn

CHAPTER 10. BENEATH THE EAVES OF FANGORN

"Arise, Master Gimli, for a new sun is arisen, and the day lies ahead of us!"

The Dwarf opened one eye, stared questioningly his friend, and shut it again. He made a muffled noise of annoyance, and rolled over so that his back faced the Elf.

"Come, now, Gimli, soon it will be noon!" Legolas laughed, leaping nimbly around to face him, face alight with open cheerfulness. "Rise, and we may begin our travels. The Fangorn Forest awaits!"

"Is that supposed to be incentive?" Gimli grumbled, sitting upright and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "I would do almost anything to avoid that place. It is shrouded in darkness, and has some evil about it that unnerves me."

"I assure you, the forest is not haunted by shadow. It is mere age that unnerves you, for there is age there such as nowhere else in Middle-earth." Legolas replied, picking up his bow and quiver and slinging them over his shoulder.

"Well, whatever it is, I have no wish to experience it." Gimli retorted stubbornly, stuffing his blankets irritably into his pack. "But I am a Dwarf of my word, and it was promised that I would visit the blasted woods with you, so visit them we shall."

Legolas smiled pleasantly, and helped the Dwarf stow away the last of their possessions. He disappeared momentarily, returning leading Arod by the reins.

"Ah, the horse." Gimli moaned, glancing apprehensively at the animal. "I have only just recovered from the ride here. I will be a wretch come the end of this journey!"

"You are welcome to go by foot." Legolas replied smoothly, picking up his pack with effortless grace. "Though I would not recommend it. What was it that you once told me? 'We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances'. Am I right in saying that you are not so strong in cross-country?"

"Do all Elves have such a sense of superiority, or is it just you?" Gimli retorted gruffly.

Legolas smiled slightly, his eyes wide with youthful innocence. "I know not of what you refer to, Master Dwarf."

"Oh, well never mind, then, _Master _Elf." Gimli said sarcastically, heaving his own pack onto his shoulders. "And I will ride, but let it be known that I will not enjoy it."

"I would not expect you to." came the reply, laced with amusement. "Lead the way, stalwart Dwarf."

Legolas followed Gimli out of the cavern and into the labyrinth of tunnels, leading Arod gently along by the reins. He trailed carefully after his friend, aware that he would soon become lost in the dark maze of caves if he were to lose sight of him.

After what seemed an age, Legolas began to recognize the caverns surrounding them as the ones they had entered through. He quickened his pace, bounding eagerly over the rocky floor, the click of Arod's hooves echoing off the walls.

Stepping out into the open, he felt the warmth of a bright morning sun fall upon his fair face, and a smile flittered across his face instinctively. His lungs were filled gratefully with fresh air; a welcome change from the staleness he had endured underground.

"Well, let's get going, then." Gimli grumbled, the return to open air having seemingly no such effect on him.

Legolas would have scorned Gimli, wishing that he too would enjoy the bright morning, but his cautiousness agreed with the unsentimental Dwarf. They were entirely exposed on the mountainside, and he wished to distance himself from the cliffs as much as possible, the memory of scouting eyes still lingering hauntingly in the back of his mind.

He leapt nimbly up onto the horse's back, and held out a hand to help the Dwarf, who took the assistance with a displeased grumble. He directed Arod onwards hastily, a sudden feeling of unnerve falling over him. His eyes darted across the barren rock with suspicion. He saw not a single scout, nor an army in hiding, yet he felt as on edge as if a battalion were charging towards him.

As soon they had reached flat enough ground, Legolas spurred Arod onwards. He could hear Gimli spluttering with disapproval as they sped forth, their surroundings a blur and the wind whistling in their ears. Only when the clatter of horseshoes on rock changed to the gentle thud of soft earth did Legolas lessen their pace, and even then the change was only slight.

"I am hesitant to ask, Legolas, but what is the cause for our haste?" Gimli queried suddenly.

"The cause? Mere eagerness, my dear Gimli." Legolas lied in response, eyes fixed firmly ahead. "I have been too long in caves; I yearn for the woods."

"That may be correct, but it is not the reason we sped away from the mountains at such a pace." Gimli replied, his tone disapproving. "You are keeping secrets from me, Elf!"

Legolas looked away, diverting his gaze to anywhere but the Dwarf. Gimli murmured in annoyance.

"I have asked before, Legolas Greenleaf, and I will ask again - do you take me for a fool? I have seen your concern, fear, uncertainty. You may think you have fooled me, but you are an open book to your pain! Besides," he added. "Elves are terrible liars."

"That is quite correct." Legolas agreed with a slight smirk, elaborating no further on Gimli's accusations.

Gimli growled in frustration. "There are things concerning you that are not right. Many things, if my eyes do not fail me! Do you hide them from me from lack of trust, or merely to spite me?"

"Perhaps it is for your own good." Legolas murmured softly, more to himself than the Dwarf.

"Ah! So you admit it, then." Gimli announced in satisfaction. "You have lied to me."

"I have lied to you not. I have merely refrained from telling you the whole truth." Legolas replied uncomfortably.

"Do not be coy with me, Elfling!" Gimli growled impatiently.

"I am not an Elfling, nor have I been one for several hundred years." Legolas replied cooly. "If you are displeased with my secrecy, then by all means, interrogate me. But let it wait until a more appropriate time; we should use these daylight hours to ride. If we make haste, we may make Fangorn by nightfall."

"I will delay my questions, but _only_ delay - I expect answers when next I ask for them." Gimli agreed reluctantly.

"I am grateful, my friend." Legolas replied warmly, relieved that he had been able to dodge his queries with relative ease. Yet his relief was short-lived - he knew that he had far from escaped questioning, and that the Dwarf would soon want more satisfactory answers.

Legolas dug his heels gently into Arod's side, spurring him forwards. The Rohan steed obeyed the command immediately, galloping forwards with tireless speed. The Elf marveled at the horse's strength and the prowess of the Rohan horsemen who had trained him, and he listened approvingly to the thud of Arod's hooves as they travelled onwards.

The Elf had grown quite fond of the steed in the months of warfare, in which Arod had carried him ceaselessly through battle. He had developed a strong bond with the horse that owed only partially to the innate love of nature and animals that ran in the veins of all of his kind, and Legolas held great loyalty in the steed.

Arod's pure white mane was a silken flag in the wind as the miles of Rohan grassland flew beneath his hooves. Legolas and Gimli were both glad to be seeing the countryside once again, this time from the back of a horse. Neither, and the Dwarf especially, would easily forget the days and nights spent running across the plains in chase of a battalion of Uruk-hai who had taken their comrades captive. There had been little time then for sleep, let alone observing the country, so the land was relatively unfamiliar for the both of them.

They travelled in silence for a long while, until it appeared that the Dwarf could not withhold his ongoing questioning any longer.

"Well, if you cannot tell me about our hasty departure, then I have another question." Gimli stated, voice raised over the whir of the wind and the thudding of horseshoes. "Why did you request a battalion of Elves to be sent to Dol Guldur to rescue Thràin? What business was it of yours?"

"It was not of my business. My kin did not trade with Dwarves in those days, nor do they now, as far as I know." Legolas replied plainly. "I was merely concerned for the welfare of your lord. I cannot imagine the torment he must have endured in the dungeons of Sauron."

"So you fought his Men?" Gimli queried eagerly.

"They were Orcs, not Men." Legolas corrected. "But yes, my people fought them."

"Your people? You speak as if you yourself did not fight." Gimli commented in surprise.

"I didn't." Legolas responded shortly. "I was not part of the battalion, even though it was my counsel that formed it."

"Why?" Gimli asked incredulously. "I was under the impression that you were Legolas, son of Thranduil, prince and _warrior _of the Mirkwood realm. Was it not your wish to fight?"

"Aye, it was, but my father would not allow it." Legolas replied, a note of bitterness to his soft tone. "My grandfather, Oropher, led the troops."

"And what of Thràin? Did he-" Gimli pressed, but was hastily cut off by the Elf hoping to dodge the question that he couldn't bear to answer.

"My friend, please, I grow weary of interrogation!" Legolas said quickly, with an unconvincing laugh. "And if I may be allowed to speak, I would draw your attention to the horizon."

Gimli shifted his glare towards the distant border, where a thin line of green had appeared to replace the sandy yellow of the dry grassland.

"Fangorn." he murmured, an apprehensive note to his voice. "The accursed forest of the Ents."

"Accursed? Nay, you are wrong." Legolas contradicted, eyes tracing the treeline with approval. "But soon you will see. Even a Dwarf could not miss the wisdom of this forest."

"Even a Dwarf - what do you mean by that?" Gimli spluttered angrily, but he was greeted only by a peal of laughter from the Elf, and a spurt of added haste to Arod's hoofbeats.

The Elf's enjoyment was genuine, and relief washed over him as they hurtled towards the trees. He felt much comforted by the nearing presence of the forest, an instinctive reaction of his kindred, perhaps, and with which came the assumption that the age and wisdom of Fangorn would safeguard them there, as Mirkwood did to its Elvish residents.

_Besides, no wise man would follow us into Fangorn. They say it is haunted, a dark wood, _Legolas noted gladly. _But even if that were true, we are far safer beneath its branches than in the open, where hidden eyes are ever watchful, and unpreventable attack ever imminent._

Arod slowed as they neared the forest, halting beside the thick trunks of the outermost trees.

_"Hannon le, mellon nin, hannon le." _Legolas murmured, rubbing the horse affectionately.

"What was that?" Gimli grunted, swinging gracelessly off the saddle and landing with a thud. "What did you say? To the horse?"

He glanced around with an air of would-be coolness, but his eyes were wide with curiosity.

"I merely thanked him for bearing us." Legolas replied, sliding lightly to the ground and turning to face his friend with a smirk. "Perhaps I should teach you some Sindarin. Then there would be no need for me to translate such phrases."

"Nay, you keep your strange Elvish words to yourself. A Dwarf has no uses for such a thing." Gimli declared immediately. "We, unlike your kind, feel no need to act superior by conversing in anything but the common tongue."

"Our aim is not superiority." Legolas replied calmly, stroking Arod's flank pensively. "Using the tongue of our forefathers allows us to converse not only with our own kind, but with all manner of birds and beasts, and even the trees themselves."

"You talk to trees?" Gimli repeated, astounded. "I had heard rumors of such things, but I thought them no more than children's tales."

"They are far from fable. The Elves and the trees have long held a bond, one that does, yes, include conversation." Legolas answered simply, shrugging lightly. "My people awoke them at the dawn of days in Middle-earth, and taught them to speak. It is a forgotten art, for the most part, for the tales of those early days have faded from the memories of all but the wisest and most ancient. Yet the ability lies dormant; unused, perhaps, but not lost."

"What do trees have to talk about?" Gimli asked gruffly, staring at the nearby trunks hesitantly.

"That is what I hope to learn." Legolas replied, stepping towards a nearby tree and stretching out a slender hand to touch the bark. "This forest is ancient, and full of memory... and secrets. I sense that there are things hidden among these woods."

"That is comforting." the Dwarf mumbled lowly.

"I see your point." Legolas laughed. "But not all secrets are dark, my friend."

"Can you talk to them?" Gimli asked, eyeing a nearby tree with increasing apprehension.

"Perhaps." Legolas answered, gazing up at the branches with wide-eyed curiosity. "I could converse with the trees of the Greenwood, but these ones may be different. It may well be that they will not reveal themselves in that manner to a stranger. But let us first enter the forest, before even considering such matters; I will be far more at ease beneath the branches of Fangorn."

Legolas slipped his pack over his shoulder, its weight joining that of his bow, quiver, and twin blades, which sat in their sheaths across his back. He bore the weight as though it were feather-light, a word of complaint, as ever, not passing his lips.

He cast a last glance over the grassy plains of Rohan, frowning slightly. His sharp eyes saw nothing out of place, yet he had learnt to trust more than what mere sight could bring him, and he knew that something was amiss. His eyes darted rapidly, each of his movements instinctively sharp and alert. He turned his back on the grassland somewhat reluctantly, as though fearing a sudden attacker from behind, yet he strode beneath the shadowy leaves of Fangorn with relief.

Immediately the air grew thick and dense, and laden with the scent of mingled growth and decay. Their footsteps crunched on the leafy floor, the only sound to be heard among the still trunks.

"Well, we are here, and may I say it is just as unpleasant as I remember it." Gimli commented, stepping cautiously over the tangled roots of nearby trees.

"Unpleasant? No, you are mistaken." Legolas denied, his keen blue eyes wide in awe. "There is more life in this forest than anywhere else in Middle-earth, Greenwood included. There is an ancient memory here that tells tales of days forgotten even by the Eldar. It is... breathtaking."

"Breathtaking seems an apt word to describe it." Gimli agreed, coughing to indicate the stuffy, humid air. "And it's as silent as a graveyard! Where are the birds, the animals?"

Legolas did not respond, but merely smiled slightly, his head inclined skyward as he examined the leaves above them with curiosity and admiration alike that of a child.

"Let us walk a little deeper into the forest, and then we may set up camp." he suggested, stepping forwards with light, tireless strides, whilst Gimli trudged unwillingly in his wake, leading Arod by the reins.

Far off from the mystery of Fangorn, a lone rider flew across the southernmost plains of Rohan with the speed of Oromë himself.

Tirion rode tirelessly through the night and long through the daylight hours, eager to see the King's task completed. He slowed only occasionally to check his bearings, and lessened his speed just enough to see the near-invisible horseshoe imprints that he was following.

The tracks were an almost direct path north-west, following the Eastfold path that bordered the White Mountains. The terrain was rocky in areas, steep and almost impossible to navigate on horseback.

_The Elf is a skilled rider, for the path he travelled is not an easy one, _Tirion noted. Yet one_ would wonder why he chose such a route. Why not ride just a league or two further north onto the grassland? There is desperation in this path, haste - almost as though he were fleeing Minas Tirith!_

Tirion shook his head firmly - he reminded himself yet again that the reason for his pursuit and the motivation behind it were no one's business but the King's. Yet he could not help but be curious as to what the letter in his pack regarded.

The soldier slowed as he approached what he had first taken as a solid cliff face, but on closer observation saw a small cave hidden among a rocky outcrop. His eyes brightened hopefully - with any luck they had stopped to rest here, and he could have the both of them back in Minas Tirith within a day of his departure.

High above and out of sight, two pairs of sharp eyes watched the figure of the Gondor soldier carefully as he dismounted and approached the cave. The scout eyed the man cautiously, slowly drawing out his bow.

"Should I shoot?" he asked in a low voice of his companion.

The man shrugged. "He is but a soldier. I cannot see what use he would have with him."

The emphasis the scout out on the word 'he' was somewhat reverential, almost fearful.

The archer balanced an arrow onto the string, carefully aiming for a clean shot. He raised his bow to chest height of the man far below, oblivious to the watchful eyes above him-

"Wait!" hissed a voice from behind him, and a pair of hands hastily knocked the bow out of the line of fire.

"M-my lord." stammered the man's companion, turning in surprise. "He is a soldier. Should we not shoot?"

The cold eyes of the scouts' leader looked down on the man with familiarity. His cloth was unmistakably that of the Guard of the Citadel, and as he came closer, he recognized his face.

_Tirion, _the man recalled. _Tirion is his name. A good rider, and a good soldier. It would be a waste to have him killed..._

"My lord, he is a danger. He belongs to the Tower Guard, he could alert the king." the bowman stated pleadingly.

The leader frowned slightly, watching the soldier's steps with an air of distance.

_They are right, _he thought coldly_. I am no longer the man I was. Ties to the past must be cut. And yet, he could be of use..._

"Shoot, but only to wound." the man concluded finally, his voice full of firm coldness. "Have him and his possessions brought to me."

As his superior turned away, the archer raised his bow, pulling the string taught. At an affirming nod from his companion he released, sending the arrow whistling down to meet its target.

As Legolas and Gimli ventured deeper into the woods, the air grew yet denser, and the trunks and branches grew thickly and allowed little light to filter past their leaves. The Elf passed silently beneath the brush, shadows dappling across his golden hair like clouds marring the bright sun of a midsummer's day. His footsteps were quick and light, and left scarcely a mark on the litter of fallen leaves that lay scattered on the forest floor. Yet his Elven-eyes were bright and wide with curiosity, and they examined every fraction of the forest that they passed through with keen interest.

But soon the trunks grew so dense that they could no longer pass among them, and Legolas resolved to halt for the day as promised.

"Gimli, here we shall make camp." Legolas called out to the dwarf, who was some distance behind him (for in his haste and eagerness, he had neglected to slow his footsteps to his friend's pace).

"Here?" Gimli spluttered, eyeing the trees doubtfully. "There isn't room in here to breathe! We cannot fit here."

Legolas smiled, eyes glittering mischievously.

"Nay, you are right. But we are not going to sleep _precisely_ here." he stated lightly.

Gimli said naught, but frowned inquiringly at the Elf. Legolas let out a short peal of laughter before turning his face skyward. He leapt, agile as a cat, towards a nearby tree, grasping one of the bottommost branches. Swinging gracefully, his feet met the bark, and he crouched there with perfect balance, staring down at the Dwarf below him.

"In trees?" Gimli choked. "We are sleeping in trees?"

"You have done it before." Legolas said dismissively. "The _talan_ of Lorién are not all that dissimilar-"

"They are structures at least, _buildings _of sorts! I will not sleep in a tree like a squirrel!" Gimli demanded, staring challengingly up at Legolas.

"It is not yet sundown, so your decision may wait." the Elf said finally, leaping from the branch and landing delicately beside him. "But let us rest our legs, in any case. We have covered many miles today, my friend."

"Aye, we have, and we've entered these accursed woods." Gimli grumbled, sitting down with a heavy sigh. "Against my wish, perhaps, but it is done."

Legolas took a seat beside him, leaning comfortably against the trunk of a tree. He unslung the quiver, scabbard and bow from his shoulder, and opened his pack. He seized two portions of _lembas_, and tossed one neatly to Gimli, who caught it with a gratefully nod.

"So, let us return to my question from earlier: why did we flee the mountains at such a speed?" the Dwarf asked through a mouthful of waybread.

Legolas' face fell, his features marred by uncertainty.

_Am I a foul friend for not entrusting him with this information? _Legolas pondered sourly. _I merely wish not for him to be alarmed, as surely he would be. He is content here, even if he will not admit it. It would not do to mar our journey with the shadow of danger._

"It is not a matter of importance." he said finally, his tone light and casual. "I merely felt a dampening on the air; I did not want to make you ride in the rain."

"You thought you _felt _rain?" Gimli scoffed, rolling his eyes. "How does one _feel _rain?"

"Apparently not with ease, for the day has been as bright and clear as any." Legolas laughed, relieved that his lie had kept the Dwarf at bay yet again.

_It is for the best,_ Legolas concluded finally. _Gimli would fear for the worst, and perhaps even demand our return to the White City. But that is not an act I am yet willing to complete on any terms but my own._

"Elves." Gimli coughed, shaking his head. "What strangeness they bring to Middle-earth, I will never be able to explain."

_"Mae pennen." _Legolas murmured, smiling.

"What?" Gimli barked inquiringly.

_"Mae pennen, mellon nin -_ well said." Legolas explained. "It is certain: I should teach you some Sindarin, so you can converse with myself and my kindred."

"It is not suited to me." Gimli denied immediately. "Your tongue is quick and gentle, like running water - the tongue of my people is like tumbling rock, or the clang of steel. They are suited to our people, and with them they shall stay."

"As you wish." Legolas agreed mildly, nodding curtly.

"Now, _that _is an art I am curious about." Gimli said suddenly, nodding towards the pile that lay beside the Elf.

"Archery?" Legolas said incredulously, picking up his bow.

"Aye." Gimli said, nodding. "I am constantly wondering - how can a device of wood and twine be as lethal as one of welded steel, be it sword or axe?"

"Perhaps I could show you sometime. But here there is naught but trees for targets, and they would dislike me firing arrows into them almost as much as they would the bite of your axe." Legolas commented.

Gimli grumbled something about trees' sensitivity, to which Legolas laughed lightly.

The time passed quickly, with the Elf's newly renewed sense of cheerfulness too joyful for Gimli to dampen with his dislike of the forest. But too soon the sun dipped below the horizon, and night fell over the woodland. With no resources to light a fire (for despite the Dwarf's pleading, Legolas refused to take even a twig from any of the trees) they decided that a solid rest would do them no harm.

Legolas tethered Arod to a low-lying branch, tying the knots firmly with the memory of their last visit to the forest in mind. He seized his possessions, and climbed the nearest tree with nimble agility, watched carefully by Gimli.

"I refuse to sleep in a tree." he repeated firmly, arms folded across his chest like a stubborn child.

"You may sleep where you will." the Elf stated indifferently, shrugging as he hooked his bow and accompanying items onto a nearby branch. "Though personally I would rather take my chances in a tree than the fell creatures that roam the forest floor come nightfall."

"Fell creatures? Of what sort?" Gimli demanded, a subdued anxiousness in his voice.

"They say those alike that of Mirkwood; the spawn of Ungoliath. Giant spiders." he added, at the Dwarf's look of confusion.

Gimli raised his eyebrows and glanced around nervously.

"It cannot be so bad." he mumbled, shuffling across towards the tree in which the Elf was perched.

Legolas bit his tongue to hold back laughter as the Dwarf began his attempt to climb; his beard seemed to be obstructing his vision, and his arms wrapped only halfway around the thick trunk. Legolas offered a hand, which Gimli accepted, if only after giving him a very dark, accusing look. He hauled the Dwarf into the branches with mild effort, for though he was immensely heavy, so was the Elf immensely strong, despite his slight frame.

Gimli settled onto a branch opposite Legolas, in evident discomfort, glancing at the ground nervously every few seconds.

"I knew of hobbits' dislike of heights, but I knew not of Dwarves'!" the Elf exclaimed, eyeing his friend with mingled surprise and amusement.

"Why do you think we mine to the depths of the earth?" Gimli replied with a bitter air. "Our dislike of heights is perhaps stronger than that of the halflings!"

"Well, it will do you no harm." Legolas said reasonably. "Perhaps you will find your fear lessened, ere the sun rises."

Gimli grumbled incoherently, and fell moodily silent. Legolas smiled understandingly, leaning back against his branch in far more comfort than the Dwarf.

A breeze brushed gently through the leaves surrounding them, carrying on it the comforting, earthy scent of the woodland. Through the branches overhead the clear night sky was visible, dotted with the glittering stars of Varda.

Legolas breathed an easy sigh, feeling more secure now in the sanctuary of the forest than he had been since leaving Minas Tirith. His eyes flickered shut, and soon Gimli's snores were joined by the Elf's soft breaths, barely audible above the whisper of the wind.


	11. Chapter 11) Outnumbered

CHAPTER 11. OUTNUMBERED

Legolas awoke as sharply as if he had been plunged into icy water.

Immediately he sat upright, eyes darting rapidly, a feeling of deep unease falling into the pit of his stomach like a ball of lead. His fear was that of an animal sensing a predator on the hunt; an unnerve stronger than he had felt even when he had seen the scout in the mountains.

Suddenly the gently thud of footsteps sounded far off, undetectable to any but the sharp ears of an Elf. But footsteps were not of one being, but many: a host. They were slow, but planted, methodical - a small army on the prowl.

A wave of panic hit him like a horse at full sprint, and he fought to subdue it.

"Gimli." he murmured lowly, moving to the Dwarf's side and shaking him firmly. "Gimli, we have to move. Now!"

"What is this idiocy? It is nightfall still!" Gimli spluttered, his speech drowsy as he awoke.

"Quickly! We must leave this place." Legolas urged him, a note of desperation in his voice.

"Why?" Gimli questioned blankly.

The Elf froze suddenly at the sound of a stick breaking beneath heavy boots, not meters from the tree in which they were perched.

"It's their horse!" the man called out gruffly to his comrades, approaching Arod cautiously. "They must be close by."

Legolas felt a pang of anger as the man neared his horse, a sense of protectiveness borne from a great care for the animal. He held a finger to his mouth to indicate to the Dwarf for silence, and reached slowly for his bow. He slipped it carefully from the branch from which it had been hanging, and immediately drew an arrow. Aiming through the branches, he released, sending it down to meet his target, who fell to the ground with a muffled cry of surprise.

There was outcry from the scout's companions, who broke into a run. He could see the silhouettes of figures approaching, their talk rough and angered.

"Gimli, come!" Legolas demanded, leaping down from the branch and landing, agile and alert.

Gimli made a noise of uncertainty, peering down at the ground doubtfully. Legolas' eyes darted to the approaching figures in the distance, and haste won over - he reached up and seized his friend, plucking him from the tree whilst he spluttered in outrage.

"What are you doing?" he growled, struggling in futile to escape Legolas' vice-strong grip.

"There is no time." he replied shortly, shoving the Dwarf onto Arod's saddle and beginning to untie the knots that bound the horse to the tree.

Deeply regretting tying the tethers so securely, he began to murmur rushed instructions to Arod, the Sindarin words flowing off his tongue with unusual haste. As he untied the final knot, he felt arms grip him from behind.

"Legolas!" Gimli roared, making to jump off the saddle to his friend's aid, while strong arms pinned him down.

_"Noro!" _the Elf cried over the yells of the enemy. _"Run!" _

Arod heeded the command immediately, bounding forward at sprint pace and fleeing the conflict, whilst his rider held on for dear life.

"Legolas!" the Dwarf yelled again, tugging furiously on the reins in an attempt to turn the horse around. "Stop! Stupid animal, turn around! _Legolas!"_

But the steed had already received instruction, and he continued at an unstoppable speed, until horse and rider disappeared from view. Legolas watched his friend escape with a feeling of immense relief, yet his attention was brought immediately back to himself as a pair of hands grasped his arms, tugging them backwards roughly.

"I've got him! I've got the Elf!" the man shouted triumphantly, the grip on his arms tightening as Legolas struggled to pull away.

The sound of footsteps drew nearer, as a crowd of Men came yet closer, their words sinister, weapons drawn. Legolas pulled away with all his strength, violently shaking himself free, and at last the hands released him, if only to grab their sword. He reached for his own blades, snatching them out in a fraction of a second and positioning himself for conflict. He arched agilely to avoid a clumsy swordstroke from a nearby enemy and plunged his blade into his would-be captor, before turning and beginning to fight.

~~~{###}~~~

The King of Gondor's eyes flew open, his body drenched in a cold sweat. He drew sharp, shallow breaths, heart beating at a racing pace. His mind scrambled for the cause of his alarm, but the thought had faded from his mind like a dream just out of the realm of recollection.

"Estel?" murmured Arwen, eyes drifting open sleepily. "What is the matter?"

"Go back to sleep, _meleth nin."_ Aragorn replied soothingly, his hand brushing her flawless, pale skin. Her eyes fell momentarily onto his face with a questioningly air, but moments later flickered closed, her face peacefully restful.

Aragorn waited until Arwen's breaths fell slow and steady before stepping from the bed. His footsteps were quiet and measured as he strode across the dark room, casting long shadows across the marble floor. He opened the doors and stepped out onto the balcony, closing them behind him to guard Arwen from the chill.

A cold night wind blew through the city, stark and unwelcoming. The stars had fallen behind a layer of cloud, and the moon was hidden from view. The lights of the city had been extinguished, masking the country in darkness.

The King glanced searchingly out beyond the walls of the city. The White Mountains to the west stood overhanging them with a threatening air, while to the east, the remains of the forests of Ithilien stood, barely visible under the veil of the night.

_What is it that I sense is amiss? _Aragorn asked himself. _Is this danger merely one perceived in dreams, or is it a waking nightmare also?_

His thoughts strayed to Tirion, the soldier that he had sent in pursuit of Legolas. The man had been unaware of the danger his king had placed him in, and with a pang of guilt, Aragorn realized that he had taken advantage of the guard's eagerness.

_I would have ridden off myself, _he thought, attempting to justify his dishonesty. _Yet..._

He shook his head firmly.

_There are no excuses for what I did, not only to Tirion, but to others close to me, _he thought savagely. _His death would be solely my fault, as would Legolas'._

Aragorn's blood ran cold, and he shivered.

_Harm shall not befall him! It is treacherous to even consider such a thing, _he thought angrily. _Legolas and Gimli will be without harm, I am sure of it._

Yet his thoughts were a lie, and not a shred of certainty hovered in his thoughts. On the contrary, his sense of foreboding deepened as he considered the possibility that his friends had strayed into the path of danger once more.

_Please, Eru, do not let them come to harm, _Aragorn prayed pleadingly.

~~~{###}~~~

The Elf spun like a whirlwind, his twin blades plunging into his foes with trained precision. The clash of steel-on-steel echoed through the forest, whilst cries of pain issued from his enemies as the front line fell and was continually replaced. He was like a wildcat, sinuously agile and athletic, dodging enemy blades with near-impossible nimbleness. His knives sliced through the air with graceful smoothness, yet brought pain where blades met flesh. His blue eyes were alight with an unstoppable determination, his fight worthy of ten men instead of one. He moved with unmatchable speed and light-footedness, dodging, leaping, twisting, whilst his blades shone scarlet with the blood of his enemies.

Yet even hundreds of years worth of training could not guarantee victory to one so outnumbered. For every man cut down, two more seemed to replace them, and Legolas' calculated and precise movements began to grow in desperation. He slashed wildly at his enemies, dodging the sharp sting of their swords with increasing difficulty as they closed in around him.

Small cuts began to appear on his arms and legs, not deep nor particularly painful, yet they served as a firm reminded of his mortality in battle. The Elf spun faster in a deadly dance, knives raised and in action whilst he simultaneously dodged swordstrokes from his enemies.

The Elf suddenly cried out in pain as he was caught unawares by an attacker from behind, the sharp blade of his sword slicing deeply into his shoulder. Legolas swayed dangerously, his arm in fiery agony, oblivious to all but the burning torture of his wound. His mind went blank as he felt his strength sapped, the will to continue fading as fast as his consciousness.

To continue fighting was impossible, but to give in was not an option. If he was to die today, then he would do so with honor: fighting until the last breath left his body.

The Elf lithely dodged the swing of a sword that narrowly missed his neck, before slashing out at his attackers, like a cornered animal fighting to their last breath. The Men were caught unawares by the resilience of their opponent, and yelled out in anger and surprise. There was a cold resolve in his eyes as he swung the blades, dealing out death and injury despite his own wounds. His stance was proud and defiant, yet his eyes widened as he watched the deep crimson liquid spread across his tunic.

This momentary pause was all it took for his opponents to gain the upper hand, and Legolas flinched sharply as a sword slashed across his torso, delivering the final blow to an already wounded fighter. He doubled over, gasping in pain, the twin knives dropping from his numb hands and clattering to the ground.

The spark in his blue eyes failing, he wavered on the spot, his vision blurring. With a pang of grief he saw a pair of hands snatch up his weapons, and realized that the fight was over. His strength faltering at last, his knees gave out from beneath him, his eyes flickering shut as his body slumped to the forest floor.


	12. Chapter 12) Captive

CHAPTER 12. CAPTIVE

Legolas drifted out of unconsciousness, awaking to agonizing pain. He was bound tightly, so tightly that the rope tore into his wrists and ankles, yet that was nothing compared to the fiery agony in his shoulder. His mind a drowsy blur, he scrambled to remember the last moments before his apparent capture.

He vaguely recalled tumbling to the ground, his weapons snatched from his reach, his thoughts marred by burning, explosive pain.

_"Bind his wound." a strong voice commanded, his voice laden with a foreign accent that Legolas could not identify. "He must be alive."_

_Careless, untrained hands secured the dirty rags around his shoulder, tying the knots with unnecessary and vicious tightness. Strong arms pulled him to his feet, forcing him to stand, but his knees bowed beneath him, unable to hold his own weight._

_"Carry him back to the horses." the man ordered, his tone one of disgust at the weakness of his captive, and Legolas felt himself unceremoniously hoisted into the air by several sets of strong arms. He struggled momentarily against his captors, but his body soon fell limp with exhaustion. His consciousness fast drifting away, he felt the jerking motion of footfalls as the men began to march..._

His mind would show him nothing more of his memories, and with a jolt of panic he returned to his own stark situation.

The roughly tied cloths binding his shoulder were stained bright crimson with blood. A floor of cold, jagged stone pressed uncomfortably against his stomach, but with his wrists and ankles tied he could do nothing to move even an inch. The space was dark, and he could see no further than a few feet away in the blinding blackness.

Suddenly the sound of approaching voices echoed off the cavernous walls.

"What of his wounds? I did not want him injured." a first voice stated coldly.

"We had no choice! He was fighting with the strength of ten men, our soldiers were falling too fast. We had to abate him." a second man replied urgently. Legolas recognized the thickly accented voice of leader in his capture, yet his apparent intimidation of this new speaker made it obvious that he was not the captain of the group.

"If he dies, I will not be pleased. There have been too many mistakes already. The other one escaped your men, I hear." the cold voice drawled accusingly.

"Yes, my lord. The Dwarf escaped." the man admitted reluctantly.

Legolas' heart flittered in relief.

_Gimli may yet be safe from harm, _he thought with a sense of relieved satisfaction, though this feeling soon faded as his shoulder throbbed painfully.

"A Dwarf and an Elf, riding together as fellows. How very strange." the cold voice mused. "But I am little surprised by the presence of the Elf in these lands, though they do not dwell in them. The pointy-eared tree-dwellers are always meddling in things that don't involve them-"

"I grieve to hear you speak of my kindred with such disdain." Legolas spat suddenly, straining against his bonds in an attempt to see the two men, unable to hold back his anger at the unprovoked attack on his people.

There was a short peal of cold laughter from the first man, equally as dispiriting and bitter as his voice had been.

"Leave." he demanded shortly of his comrade. "I wish to speak to him alone."

The footsteps echoed and faded away, before the first voice spoke again.

"I see you have awoken." he drawled. "Comfortable, are you?"

Legolas held back a snarl. The ropes dug tightly into the skin around his wrists, rubbing the skin raw and he struggled against the bonds. His wounded shoulder burnt agonizingly, whilst the slash in his torso throbbed, in no way assisted by the careless position he had been strewn into. He craned his neck upwards, but even his sharp Elven eyes gave him nothing but a dark silhouette of the man before him.

"Let us start with something simple, shall we?" his captor suggested lightly. "What is your name?"

Legolas' brow crumpled into a slight frown, and his lips remained stubbornly closed.

"Now, now, Elf, you do not want to play games with me." said the man, quiet but threateningly.

"Tell me your name, and I may return the favor." Legolas stated boldly, head as upheld as he could manage in a show of firm defiance.

"Perhaps I will eventually, but not yet." the man replied slowly. "What is your name, Elf?"

"It is no business of yours what my name is." Legolas answered rigidly.

The man sighed tiredly, bending his knees and crouching so that his face was almost level with that of his captive. "You really do not seem to understand the current situation. You _will _answer my questions."

Legolas briefly caught the sharp glint of a blade, but was powerless to resist as the dagger was placed against his throat, a trickle of blood trailing from where it met the fair skin.

"Olórin, of Lorién." Legolas lied hastily, his heart thumping loudly against the blade pressed to his neck.

The man slowly withdrew the dagger from Legolas' throat and gazed at him for a moment, his expression unreadable in the darkness. Legolas struggled to keep his face impassive, his eyes unreadable, yet the action was foreign; Elves were innately poor liars.

"Of Lorién?" he repeated skeptically. "Yet you happened into Gondor, and thus abided for a time in Minas Tirith. What was your purpose there?"

"I was an ambassador for my people." Legolas replied quickly. "I was sent to oversee the reconstruction of Gondor, and offer the services of the Lorién Elves. Our people have long been allies."

"An ambassador?" the man stated, frowning. "Am I incorrect in saying that you appear too _young, _even by the standards of your kind?"

"I have seen more summers bloom and winters fade than you would in ten lifetimes." Legolas snapped, partially in genuine annoyance at his ignorance, but also using the opportunity to strengthen his false identity.

His captor raised his eyebrows in surprise and mild amusement, but nodded. "Very well, very well. Perhaps it is best that you are an ambassador - an Elf of high ranking, as it was. It may well bring benefit to me in the end."

"And what end may that be?" Legolas returned.

The man turned away, pacing back and forth with cautious footfalls.

"I understand not your purpose." Legolas spat, pulling at his bonds with foolish determination. "Of what use am I to you? I would have you tell me and rid you of my presence. It is apparent that you are no friend of me or my people - already I have been threatened at knifepoint!"

"You are a fool if you think I would release you after all the effort spent to get you here." he contradicted, spinning around to face him with a menacing gleam in his eyes. "Yet not for you does my hatred run deep, but for another to whom you have passed counsel. Tell me, Elf: how does King Elessar fare?"

Legolas felt his stomach drop sickeningly, understanding beginning to dawn even in his pain-ridden, drowsy state.

"Answer me, Elf, or you will again meet my dagger!"

"He fares well, as far as I am aware." Legolas replied, hoping that his captor took his wide eyes for innocent surprise instead of panicked alarm.

"As far as you are aware?" the man repeated, eyebrows raised. "You are an ambassador, are you not? Is it not your _purpose _to exchange trust with him?"

"To a point, yes." Legolas agreed quickly, his mind scrambling for a lie that his captor would buy. "But our dealings are strictly dutiful."

"So you would have me believe that you know naught of the king but what the people of Gondor do?" the man queried sarcastically.

"Aye, I would." Legolas stated with would-be certainty. "Although nor do I understand your quarrels with him."

"My _quarrels? _My hatred for the King of Gondor are a result of far more than _quarrels!" _the man laughed sardonically.

"Whilst that may be, I do not understand what role I may play in your elaborate plot." the Elf asked, twisting his arms uncomfortably. "What do I possess that is even of relevance to you, or to the King of Gondor?"

"You possess the most valuable commodity of them all, Elf." the man countered. "Information. And I assure you, you will soon be more than willing to part with it."

Legolas felt a pang of pain completely unrelated to his physical wounds. His suspicions had been confirmed: this man wanted to bring harm to Aragorn, and would use anyone, even a supposed_ ambassador, _to get to him.

~~~{###}~~~

Arod's hooves pounded relentlessly across the Rohan grasslands. The Dwarf rider had long since stopped attempting to halt or divert their progress. The horse, it seemed, would not be thrown from its path by any but his true owner, and seeing as Legolas was miles away, possibly dead, for all Gimli knew, this was of no help to him whatsoever.

_Don't you dare die on me, Elf, _Gimli scowled mentally. _I swear, I will find a way to track you down, and make these men rue the day they ever thought to harm you._

The Dwarf gripped the reins tightly, bouncing jerkily on the saddle with each bound the horse took. He knew not of what path Legolas had set the horse upon, but he could guess with relative certainty: the nearest ally city to the Fangorn Forest was Edoras. It would take him two days to ride there, one perhaps, if the steed's speed did not falter.

_It is not fast enough. Legolas may well be dead two days from now, _Gimli thought, a panic rising in his chest. _I can only imagine where he is now, outnumbered as he was. He would not have submitted to them without a fight, which means he is either injured or..._

Gimli took a deep, shaky breath.

_There is nothing to be gained from panic, _he told himself firmly. _The best I can do for Legolas is to reach Edoras with as much haste as possible._

_And then what?_

Gimli gripped the reins tightly as the saddle jerked upwards over a patch of uneven ground, before settling to an answer.

_I must seek the counsel of Éomer, _he decided. _He will send his men without hesitation. He and Legolas are close comrades, after all. He will do all within his power to recover him._

_Will it be enough, though? _asked a small voice in the back of his mind. _By the time I reach Éomer they will have had more than two days' head start. They could be anywhere by that time, perhaps even outside the borders of Rohan. There will be no catching up with them._

_Time will tell, _Gimli concluded finally, shutting the worried thoughts from his mind for the moment, his entire being focused on reaching Edoras with as much haste as possible.


	13. Chapter 13) Truths Uncovered

CHAPTER 13. TRUTHS UNCOVERED

"Speak!"

"No."

"Speak, vermin! You will regret it if you do not."

"Then regret it I shall, and be proud to have held my tongue."

His captor delivered a stinging slap to the Elf's face, leaving a smarting mark where his hands met the skin.

"It is not difficult information that you give me." the man stated softly. "An untrained fool would could have noticed the changes of the guard, and seeing as you are supposedly an ambassador_, _I will credit you as having at least _some _degree of intelligence."

"Then you will know that to divulge you this information is treason of the highest order." Legolas replied, his tone forcefully calm. "Changes of the guard? Weaponry? You are planning an assault on the White Tower, and I will have no part in it."

"No one need know." his captor said warmly. "You will be released, and no one will ever know the better."

"You would have me think that I will simply be released if I comply?" Legolas queried, his tone slightly mocking. "I thought you credited my intelligence more than that."

"Then allow me to suffice in promising that your death will be far less painful than if you choose to be difficult." the man reasoned, smiling sadistically.

Legolas tugged firmly at his bonds, but slumped down after a few seconds. He had little strength left after hours of interrogation, being punched, kicked and otherwise abused for his noncompliance. The wound on his shoulder had not had the chance to close up, and exploded fiercely every time it met the jagged rock of the cave floor. The gash on his torso, similarly, throbbed dully, not to mention the many shallow scratches and cuts covering the once-flawless skin.

"You will tire, Elf. Soon you will _beg _for me to let you speak." he taunted, circling the battered figure with an air of superiority.

"I would sooner submit to Morgoth himself than to a coward like you." Legolas spat in fury.

His captor let out an angry snarl and slammed a foot down on Legolas' chest, crushing the air from his lungs; the Elf responded with a pained hiss. Legolas twisted and writhed, pinned down by the heavy boot, his every breath an effort.

"Do not forget, _vermin,_ that I am in control here." he said, calmly but with an unmistakeable hatred. "Now, I have other matters to attend to. I trust you shall keep comfortable in my absence."

He released his boot from the Elf's chest; immediately he rolled sideways, gasping for breath as the sound of footsteps echoed away into silence.

~~~{###}~~~~

"My lord?"

"Ah, Faramir, enter."

The Steward inclined his head respectfully as he entered the King's study, where Aragorn sat, a long scroll of parchment in hand.

"You received the reports from Osgiliath?" Faramir noted.

"Aye, I did, and their tidings are good. The city's restorations are coming along quicker than we anticipated." Aragorn replied, eyes scanning the text rapidly.

"May I?"

"Of course."

Faramir took the scroll and read the first few lines, though his eyes seemed oddly unfocused, and he looked up after a moment or two.

"I have not seen Tirion of the Guard of recent." he commented in a poor attempt at casualness.

"Nay, you would not have. I sent him after Legolas, as you are well aware." Aragorn replied, a smirk playing at his lips. "You are a terrible actor, my friend."

Faramir laughed uncomfortably. "After Legolas, you say?"

"Yes. I sent him with a letter, hoping that it may bring him back to Minas Tirith with haste. I have been told that his horsemanship is unrivaled among the Guard; I thought he was best to pursue such a capable rider as Legolas." Aragorn answered simply. "What of it?"

"My lord, Tirion's steed was found by some soldiers near the city wall." Faramir explained gently, voice cautious and quiet. "It was without a rider."

"Without rider?" Aragorn repeated in shock. "Faramir, what do you mean to-"

"Tirion has been attacked, or else captured." he stated shortly. "And therefore, seeing as Tirion was tracking them, it is likely that Legolas and Gimli-"

"Have also been struck." Aragorn finished, slamming his fist down on the desk with a roar of anger and shooting to his feet. "They never should have felt compelled to leave the city. If I had not been a _fool _and-"

"This is not your fault, Aragorn." Faramir said soothingly. "There are many things at play here, secrets yet to be uncovered. Until we are certain of the circumstances, no blame can be placed on you, nor anyone else."

"You are far too lenient in judging me." Aragorn snapped. "The circumstances are irrelevant, except for the fact that there was danger at hand, and I allowed my friends to pass into it."

"You knew naught of the threat." Faramir protested in exasperation. "The news was yet to come regarding these men!"

"I should have kept a closer watch," the King insisted, pacing in quick, panicked steps. "I should have known that there would be rogues, traitors too, no doubt-"

"That is utter falsehood." Faramir said brusquely, a hint of anger to his words. "There are no traitors in Gondor."

Aragorn took a deep, shaky breath.

"What of Legolas' horse? Arod?" he asked in a voice of forced calm, bringing a hand to his furrowed brow.

"There has been no sight of it." Faramir answered immediately. "There is still a chance that they are safe, however slim."

"We must look for them. We can send out a unit to search the countryside." Aragorn suggested. "I would hazard a guess at the mountains-"

"If I may say so, that is a poor idea, my lord." Faramir said delicately. "If this rebel group feels confronted they may panic and kill the hostages, or else use them to bargain free passage."

"Then what is your suggestion?" Aragorn queried, forcing himself to keep a level head.

"I believe we should wait until we know more about our enemy." Faramir answered reluctantly.

"Wait? They will all be dead by the time we reach them!" he spluttered, his impatience winning the battle for calm.

"They may be dead already." Faramir snapped shortly, stopping Aragorn's fresh protest and leaving him with a horrified look on his face. "I am sorry, Aragorn, so sorry, but it is a possibility we must take into account. We cannot waste our men on a mission as uncertain as this."

"So we let them die." Aragorn finished coldly.

"You know full well that is not what I imply." Faramir retorted in annoyance. "We must pursue them, of course, but in proper time. If we rush into battle unprepared they may well perish in the crossfire."

Aragorn nodded slowly.

"Then what?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper. "What is our plan?"

"I wish I had an answer to that." Faramir sighed.

"It is curious, perhaps, to consider what Legolas would do, were our places reversed." Aragorn pondered, eyes directed floorward as he commenced pacing once more.

"And what is that?" the Steward inquired.

"He would pursue me himself. No soldiers, no battalion, just him." Aragorn answered, looking up at Faramir, eyes pleading. "He would pursue me to the ends of the earth, irrelevant of the circumstances."

"Absolutely not." he said immediately. "You are not replaceable, Aragorn. You are no longer a Ranger of the North: you are a King of Gondor. Your duty is to your people. You cannot pursue a dangerous mission such as this, _especially _not alone."

"I am aware of that." the man snapped sharply. His face bore the weight of a thousand years' worth of sorrows, and the ghosts of fear wandered in his steely grey eyes.

"Then we wait." Aragorn concluded finally, a sour expression on his face. "We wait, and hope that when news comes, it brings good tidings, and not ones of despair."

~~~{###}~~~~

Tirion drifted out of unconsciousness and was immediately made aware of a searing pain in his thigh. He looked down at the patch of skin and winced immediately - the wound was bloody and deep, and whilst the arrowhead had been pulled out, it was quite clear how it had been inflicted. Only vaguely did he recall receiving the injury; he had lost consciousness before he had time to register the event.

"W-where am I?" the soldier murmured to himself, eyes searching the darkness in vain. "Who's there?"

There was no response but the cold silence of the rocky walls. His military training finally having some input on his actions, he observed contentedly that whilst his wrists had been bound, his ankles had been overlooked. Tirion hastened to his feet, sending a sharp stab of pain to the arrow wound, before crumpling back onto the cave floor.

_Of course, _he thought angrily. _Why bother tying the feet of one who cannot walk? It would be like covering the eyes of a blind man._

"Who's there?" he called out again, his voice shaking ever so slightly from pain and disorientation.

Straining his ears, Tirion heard voices approaching from a distance. He pulled himself into a sitting position, determined to minimize his vulnerability in front of these apparent foes. The flickering of a torch came into view, as did a man in the worn and aged cloth of a soldier. He was tall and defined, and his face was one of solemnity and cold indifference, as if hardened by years of brutality. He was the kind of man, Tirion noted, that would instill fear on the battlefield.

"Ah, you have awoken." he noted, his voice icy and professional. "I suspected you would soon enough. Your wound was not deep, after all. I ordered my men shoot only to injure, not to kill."

_He speaks as if expecting gratitude for his compassion! _Tirion thought furiously. _Not deep? I would inflict such a wound upon him, and see if his words ring true!_

But his training had taught him to hold his tongue, and so not a word passed his lips. His eyes followed the man cautiously as he paced before him.

"You see, Tirion, I did not want-"

"How do you know my name?" he snarled, more from shock than anything else.

"I know much about you, my friend." the man replied in a poor attempt at a warm, friendly tone. "We have met, you see, even fought alongside one another. Surely you must recall?"

"We are not _friends, _nor are we comrades. Only a foe would seek to wound and kidnap me, without provocation or reason." Tirion responded smoothly.

"Perhaps that is so, but then, it was not without reason that you were brought here." his captor stated measuredly.

"No?"

"No. You were tracking a path left a few days back. I want to know why."

"I am in no position to divulge such information." Tirion answered immediately.

"Do not be a fool, Tirion." the man said warningly.

"Do not speak to me as though we are old friends!" he snapped.

"Oh, but we are old friends! It hurts me that you do not remember me." the man said, a look of mock insult on his face.

"Be done with the games, then, and tell me who you are." Tirion said shortly, patience waning.

"No." the man replied simply. "You will remember me, ere the end."

Something in the cold sureness of this statement made the hair on the back of Tirion's neck stand on edge.

"If you must be cryptic, then so be it, though I would have you know that I am naught but your hostage. I implore you to treat me like it." Tirion requested boldly.

"With pleasure." the man said, a gleam in his eyes. "So, soldier, who were you sent after? Why?"

"I do not possess that information." he lied, a feigned look of blankness on his face.

"Nay? Then what, I wonder, is this?" his captor asked, pulling from his pocket an envelope, the wax seal of the King of Gondor clearly visible on the parchment.

Tirion swallowed nervously, but remained silent. The man broke the seal and began reading the letter, his face losing composure as he read on, until at last he finished, his face one of suppressed rage.

"This letter is intended for a Legolas Greenleaf - who is that?" he asked quietly.

"I see not how it matters." Tirion returned brazenly, and received a sharp kick to his injured leg as reward. The solider hissed in contempt.

"It will do you more harm than it is worth not to answer me." he warned.

The man hesitated, then, deciding it could do now harm, answered. "He is an Elf - a great hero in our lands, and a close friend of the King."

"An Elf, you say?" he queried.

"Yes, of the Woodland Realm, if my deductions are correct. That bloodline is supposed to have blond hair, is it not?" the man added faintly, as his wound made his head feel light and spacey.

His captor made a retching noise, halfway between a scowl and a triumphant woo. "I did not realize... But now, of course, I recall..."

Without another word of explanation, he turned on his heel and stalked off the way he had come, taking with him the only source of light, plunging the soldier into impenetrable darkness.


	14. Chapter 14) Words of Warning

CHAPTER 14. WORDS OF WARNING

Legolas tugged halfheartedly against his bonds, though his energy was entirely spent, and the action in vain. His wrists had already been rubbed raw, and bled where the rope had torn at the skin. Just as damaged as his physical self, however, was his mental state.

The total darkness and silence engulfed him, isolating and debilitating. For an Elf that had grown up surrounded by the light-filled forest and the warmth of sun filtering through the trees, the cold, empty darkness was terrifyingly foreign. This was not the type of cave that he and Gimli had travelled far to see - it was bare, jagged, bleak. He had begun to fear that his captor had left him to rot in the blackness when the flicker of a torch brought the sharp cave walls back into focus.

Legolas craned his neck, almost relieved at his return. The man came into view, and for the first time, the Elf caught sight of his face - to his surprise, his appearance was astoundingly ordinary. He bore the typical ruddy complexion and sandy hair of a Man of Gondor, and he looked to be in his middle years. The only part of his face that stood out were his eyes - cold, concrete and unforgiving. The flicker of the torch cast an eerie shadow onto his face, the flame dancing in his eyes.

The man stared down at the Elf with a slightly furrowed brow, head cocked to the side slightly almost thoughtfully. Legolas responded with an innocent, wide-eyed stare, hoping to evade aggravating the man further.

"So you are an ambassador, you say?" he asked, after another long, poignant moment.

"Yes, yes, I am." Legolas replied quickly - perhaps almost too much so.

"How curious... I wonder, then, why this letter refers to you as 'dear friend'?" the man queried, holding up the piece of parchment, adorned with the broken wax seal of the King of Gondor.

Legolas' eyes widened slightly - enough for his captor to take notice, and suddenly his face contorted with rage. He swung out a vicious kick, catching Legolas unawares as his boot slammed into his rib, accompanied by an unmistakable crunch. He cried out in pain before he could stop himself, his every breath sending a sharp stab of pain to his chest.

"It would seem odd, also, that this letter addresses you by the name _Legolas."_ the man went on, voice cool and detached. "What was it you said your name was: Olórin? Yet, I was told by the messenger entrusted with its delivery that it was intended for a blond-headed Elf, a close comrade of the King of Gondor. There can't be many that would fit that description in these parts, now, could there?"

Legolas' stomach fell nauseatingly.

"What a strange coincidence indeed." he said weakly, scratching one last attempt at redemption.

"You _lie." _the man hissed, circling the crouched figure like a vulture. "I had heard that your kind were all lying scum, with tongues of silver and words that run like poison, but I will admit, I thought you better. My mistake."

"Insult my kindred further would be your next mistake." Legolas threatened, and his captor laughed cruelly.

"I do not think you are in any position to make threats, my friend." he commented, placing a boot on the Elf's back and pinning him to the floor, where he writhed half in pain, half purely in rebellion. "But tell me, for I am curious: how goes that wife of the king's - Arwen, is it? She's a pretty thing, even if she is one of your kind. I'll have a lot of fun with her once her husband's blood covers the-"

"You wouldn't dare!" Legolas growled lowly, his eyes alight with rage.

The man looked down at the Elf with a look of mild surprise.

"You fight so hard to protect him, even now!" he stated incredulously, his face mocking in its every line. "But where is he, Legolas? _Where is your precious Aragorn now? _Because he certainly isn't here in your hour of need, is he?"

Legolas froze, instantly regretting the decision as the movement sent a sharp stab of pain to his ribs.

"Now," he continued, crouching down and placing his face close to the Elf's pointed ear, his voice intent with cold, sadistic malice. "You are going to tell me exactly what I need to know, or we're going to see if your blood is as pretty as your face."

~~~{ ###}~~~

Gimli's bones ached from the continual, jolting motion of the horse, but he dared not stop until he had reached his destination. Instead, he urged the beast onwards as best he could, cursing the fact that he had never sought to learn how to ride the creatures. Time was to be the key factor in maintaining Legolas' life, and every moment he trotted along was another minute that his friend could, for all he knew, be fading away.

"Faster, you blasted thing, faster!" Gimli cursed, shaking the reins angrily.

To his immense surprise, the horse replied with an enthusiastic whinny, and took off, almost throwing the Dwarf off the saddle in its haste. Gimli quickly grasped the leather fixings, hands closed tightly around anything that might keep him on the animal's back. Yet, he gave an involuntary chuckle as horse and ungainly rider pelted across the fields of Rohan - there was no doubt in Gimli's mind that it was the strangest sight to cross these lands in a very long time.

Rounding a large, rocky outcrop, Gimli gave a cry of relief as a hill appeared in the distance, surrounded by a tall wall and scattered with buildings and houses. The great palace at the top of the landform identified it without a shadow of a doubt, even from such a distance - The Golden Halls of Meduseld, home of the king and the grandest building in the city of Edoras. Gimli gave another tug of the reins, spurring Arod onwards even faster.

When at last he reached the entrance gate, a soldier whose face Gimli vaguely recalled from his visit just days previous called out to him.

"Master Dwarf, you return so soon!" he chirped, opening the gate immediately. Gimli did not slow Arod's pace (though, in truth, he did not entirely know how) as they passed beneath the archway, leaving the guard looking bewildered in his wake. Arod climbed the hill with tireless speed, and Gimli spared a moment's thought for the animal - from his urgent pace and stamina, it was almost as though the creature understood the danger his master was in, and sought, as the Dwarf did, to warn anyone that could help.

As he reached the Golden Hall, Gimli let go of the saddle, and toppled gracelessly from the horse's back. Brushing himself off, quite unhurt, he glanced up, to see the grinning, bearded face of Éomer rushing down the steps towards him.

"That was quite a dismount, my friend!" he laughed. "But I did not expect you back so soon - and where is Legolas?"

The Dwarf's face darkened, and the smile dropped from Éomer's face like lead in water.

"Gimli, what news of Legolas? Is he injured?" Éomer asked urgently, gripping Gimli's arm tight. "Where is he?"

"He's been taken." Gimli choked, his speech rushed. "You must send for help!"

"Come inside and we may talk." Éomer suggested, gesturing towards the hall.

"No! There is no time. He has been taken, his time grows short. You must send your men to retrieve him." Gimli panted.

"By whom? How many?"

"DOES IT MATTER?!" Gimli roared. "You must help, you must-"

"I cannot send my men wildly after some unknown party! It would be to send them to their deaths." Éomer protested.

"If you do not send soldiers after him, you will ensure Legolas'." Gimli retorted.

Éomer furrowed his brow deeply. "I am sorry, Gimli, but I cannot just-"

"YOU'RE THE KING, OF COURSE YOU CAN!" Gimli bellowed, face bright red behind his beard.

"I am the King of Rohan, but Legolas is not one of our people. Even if he were, I would need to know exactly who, why and where he had been taken before I could even consider sending troops." Éomer explained calmly. "Come, please, into the Hall. You are dead on your feet."

"Then send word to Aragorn." Gimli requested breathily.

"What?"

"Aragorn, send a letter to him! Surely you can spare a single messenger? Aragorn will surely send help, if you are too cowardly to!" Gimli snapped.

"It is not a question of bravery, my friend. I am bound to my people, and Aragorn to his." Éomer reasoned. "Still, I will send word with my fastest man. He may reach Minas Tirith by nightfall."

Gimli exhaled deeply, but nodded. "Alright, but quickly. I fear already that Legolas may be out of time."


	15. Chapter 15) A Time for Action

CHAPTER 15. A TIME FOR ACTION

Aragorn cast his gaze out across the city, the dusky light blending the sky and the land into a mesh of deep oranges and purples. The streets were quiet as merchants packed away their market stalls for the day, and traffic slowed to workers returning to their homes.

From this viewpoint, it was difficult to imagine any wrong befalling such parts. And yet, even now, sections of the city wall lay collapsed into little more than piles of rubble - a stark reminder that, just a few short months ago, Minas Tirith had been at war.

The thought surprised the king - had he really forgotten the long, woeful days of battle after so short a time? He shook his head of the thought. Of course not. Few nights passed when he did not dream of the bloodshed and destruction of days passed, and his waking hours were filled half with reconstruction plans, and half with listening to the stories of his people. It was the role of the king to behold those who had helped save the city from conquest, to commend them, to sympathize. Each day they came in droves, with tales of children rescued from crumbling buildings or orcs slain before they could breach the walls.

Aragorn was taken aback at the bravery of the people of Gondor, and especially by those who had no such requirement. Men who were not soldiers had done as much to hold back the forces of Mordor as the king's armies, and women had taken up their slain husbands' swords to join in the fight. Yet for every victory there were ten defeats, for every triumphant gleam, a dozen tear-filled eyes. The people of Minas Tirith had not suffered lightly, and the ground outside the city walls was filled with the bodies of the unlucky ones who had not made it through the long nighttime of war.

The king could relate. It had not been just meaningless faces falling alongside him in battle. He had seen friends and foes alike fall, his kinsmen and brothers cut down like trees by a woodsman - Boromir, Théoden, and even Gandalf, in a sense - and his thoughts were plagued by the ghosts of each and every one of them.

No, he had not forgotten those dark times, and he suspected he never would.

For even now, every resting moment went towards his memories. Should he have fought the balrog alongside Gandalf? Had he been there, alongside Boromir at the riverbank, would the man have been slain? If he had of remained with Théoden on Pelannor Fields, would he have been able to hold back the fatal sword that pierced his armor?

That, he supposed, was why he was keen to act quickly in regards to Legolas - he did not want his friend to be another regret, another ghost haunting his dreams and waking thoughts alike.

There was a hasty knock at the door, and Arwen appeared in the doorway, looking flustered.

"My love, you should not push yourself so. Do not forget that you are with child - you cannot go dashing about the city as you once did. You must take care of yourself." Aragorn scolded gently, striding forwards to embrace her. Arwen shook her head, eyes wide.

"Aragorn, a letter has arrived for you." she stated, holding out a scroll of parchment.

He gave her a puzzled look. _"Hannon le, _Arwen, but why did Faramir not-"

"I thought it best to receive it from me. It is from Edoras, you see, sent with greatest urgency from Éomer." she explained hurriedly, holding out the letter again. Aragorn took the scroll from her hands, breaking the seal quickly and scanning the page. The writing was smudged in several places, as though it had been hastily scrawled.

_Aragorn,_

_Gimli arrived at the Golden Hall in the early hours of this morn, burdened with ill tidings. He is quite unharmed, but the same cannot be said for Legolas. My friend, I am sorry, but the Elf has been taken. We know not by whom, nor with what purpose. He was snatched away in the night whilst the pair travelled in Fangorn, and Gimli managed to escape only by Legolas sacrificing their only horse to his passage. The Dwarf insisted I send word to you._

_I implore that you act with a calm head - hastening into actions will help none. Legolas may not yet have come to harm, and rash actions will only get you both killed._

_Best wishes, my friend, and the best of luck,_

_Éomer._

Aragorn looked up at Arwen, horror struck. She snatched the letter out of his hands and read it quickly, her face mirroring his in grief. Hers, though, was paired by concern for her husband.

"Aragorn, you must not-" she begged.

"No, on the contrary, I must."

"Éomer bade you be cautious-"

"Cautiousness has gotten me thus far - now action must be taken." Aragorn snapped. Arwen bowed her head, the sight of her defeat causing such distress in Aragorn that he felt as though he could collapse from the weight of it.

He took a step towards her and lifted her chin with a gentle hand. He leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, feeling the softness of her skin, inhaling her beautifully inhuman scent-

She pulled away, shaking her head. He felt a stab of guilt when he saw that her eyes swam with tears.

"Vow to me that you will return." she demanded, voice wavering slightly.

"I cannot do so and keep my honor." Aragorn replied gently. "But I will vow you this - I will return Legolas, your kinsman, to you. He will protect you if all else fails."

"You speak already as though you expect to die." she whispered sadly. "My care is deep for Legolas, but he is not my husband, nor could he ever replace you."

"Well, m'lady, I best make sure we both return, as to spare your fine heart any trouble." Aragorn said playfully, making Arwen laugh tearily. She reached forwards and grabbed his face, pulling it towards hers. Their lips collided, this time with urgency, ferocity, and the solid awareness that this kiss may well be their last. They broke apart, and Aragorn gave her one more glance before hastening from the chamber.

The king sprinted down the stairs, running towards the stables with a complete lack of dignity that left those that beheld him in confusion. He swung himself onto the back of the nearest horse, not bothering with a saddle - he could ride equally quickly without one.

"Aragorn!"

The king turned, and his face fell as he saw Faramir standing in the doorway, puffing slightly, as though he'd just run.

"I heard about the letter from Éomer." he panted, striding towards the side of the horse. "I am sorry, so sorry, my lord."

"There is no need for you to apologize." Aragorn replied brusquely. "It is not your fault, but mine, that led to this."

Faramir sighed. "I don't suppose I can persuade you from your path?"

"I am afraid it is too late for that." Aragorn replied, his voice laden with genuine regret. The steward nodded slowly.

"That being the case, I bid you travel with all the fortunes of Middle-earth overhanging you, that you may return to us with speed." he concluded. "And, should your fortunes not be enough to keep you from harm, take this."

Faramir undid the buckle of his sheath and handed the sword to Aragorn, who took the weapon gratefully, weighing up the blade in his hands with an approving nod.

"Thank you, my friend. Let us hope I need not use it." Aragorn murmured gently.

"Travel swiftly." Faramir said finally, and pulled open the stable door.

The king wasted no time, kicking the horse carefully but firmly into action. Moments later he was out of sight, gone in a flurry of hoofbeats and tail dust.

~~~{###}~~~

Aragorn navigated the city with cautiousness and the excellent horsemanship of many years' practice. His speed was such that, whilst he could easily dodge any stray civilians still wandering the dusky streets, there was not sufficient time for anyone to catch a glimpse of his face and recognize it as their king. Once he had descended the many levels and cobbled streets of the city, he passed under the grand stone gateway, following the stars westward and out onto the plains.

Here he picked up in speed, and, beneath the clear, midsummer sky, he felt a sense of freedom he had not experienced in a long while. With only the beat of hooves and the whistle of the wind in his ears, he was the only man within miles - his memory failed to recall an instant in the last several months where that had been the case.

The solitude was, oddly, a feeling he had missed. As a Ranger of the North, in days so far passed that they seemed more a passing dream than a memory, he had spent months roving the wild forests by himself. There was a certain sense of privilege associated with that lifestyle, he thought in reflection. No responsibilities, no ties to a certain place or person - just him and the land, the way it had been for the Rangers for centuries uncounted.

As night progressed, Aragorn dismounted, checking that the track he followed still proved true. Despite the decades that had past, he still remembered every detail of his training in tracking and reading the land, and his eyes were keen even in the dark. Also, well did he know Legolas and the paths he was likely to take, and so he was able to pursue the near-invisible trail with little hindrance.

It was nearing dawn, the time when sunlight just threatens to break across the horizon, when the White Mountains appeared in the distance. Bleak, foreboding and desolate, they seemed to issue a sort of chill that had no association whatsoever with the actual temperature. Aragorn had scarcely felt so reluctant to visit a location, and simultaneously could not recall riding with more haste as he did now.

The plains pelted beneath his horse's hooves with a reawakened vigor, just as the first rays of day broke across the land.


	16. Chapter 16) Faltering Footsteps

CHAPTER 16. FALTERING FOOTSTEPS

Gimli paced back and forth, a habit that he had picked up off Aragorn. The halls of Meduseld were painfully quiet, and the still, calm air led only to his further maddening. Éomer had been forced to attend to various kingly duties soon after sending the letter to Aragorn, and so Gimli had been left alone to fill the time in the empty halls. The King of Rohan had ordered food be set out for the Dwarf, but his nervousness was such that, for the first time he could remember, he could not bear to touch a morsel.

Now that he had reached Edoras, he felt strangely powerless in helping Legolas. His role, he sensed, had now been played, and the exhausting game of waiting for news had begun. Gimli was quite unaccustomed to this. He had always been on the front lines, always in the midst of battle - never safely hidden behind the walls. His chest swelled with a strange sense of guilt. After all, he was secure and comfortable, and Legolas was almost certainly neither. The fact that he could do nothing more to aid his friend was both starkly unfamiliar and entirely frustrating.

Gimli grumbled to himself, a low, growling noise that earned concerned looks from a servant passing by.

Now, with time to contemplate, he felt his mind wandering back, scrambling to make some sense of a situation that seemed to make none. Why had Legolas been taken? By whom? For what purpose?

The Dwarf could answer none of those questions. In his memory, Legolas had wronged no one, harmed none that needn't be hurt, caused no damage that wasn't entirely necessary. He had slain many Men and Orcs, of course, but after the war it was uncommon to find someone who hasn't such blood on their hands. The Elf, Gimli thought scoffingly, had a reputation for being completely and entirely faultless. Even in the heat of battle, his head had always been cool, and his morals concrete. He was as merciful a soldier as one could hope to come across.

So why, then, had he been abducted in the night, without warning nor apparent reason? Gimli's mind wandered for clues, and snagged on a conversation held weeks previously in the Glittering Caves, a time that seemed little but memory on accounts of all that had happened since.

_"So you persuaded Thranduil, your father, to send troops to Dol Guldur?" Gimli asked incredulously._

_"There were other forces at play; there was the danger that Sauron might attack our people, or else destroy more of the forest. But yes, for the most part, I was responsible." Legolas answered, his tone saddened for reasons the Dwarf could not comprehend._

_"You were responsible? You make the gesture sound like one of cruelty, instead of kindness!" Gimli exclaimed. "Why does this sorrow you so?"_

_"I have not the heart to tell you, Gimli son of Glóin, for never again would you see me in the same light as you do now." Legolas replied, with a cold burst of laughter. "Nay, I have faced judgement enough. I do not need yours to add to my regret."_

_Gimli began to argue, but Legolas interrupted immediately._

_"It is my burden to bear, and bear it I will!" he snapped, his face filled with cold fury, mingled with sorrow. _

Legolas' anger had struck the Dwarf as odd at the time, and now, upon reflection, seemed even more so - it was the first time Gimli could recall him ever withholding such information. Before that, the Elf had been as transparent about his past as anyone could be, and seemed to have no reason to be otherwise; but an innocent question had turned him cold and spiteful in a matter of moments.

_Perhaps there are shadows in his past_, Gimli thought. _Shadows that had lurked for an age in wait for a chance at vengeance._

He shook his head firmly, scowling at himself. How could his opinion of the Elf be changed so swiftly? Had he any reason to doubt Legolas' integrity, apart from speculation? There were secrets in his past, of that there was no doubt, but that was little reason to suggest that Legolas had somehow _provoked _his abduction.

_The sooner we get him back, the better, _Gimli thought. _This guesswork does naught to aid anyone, yet such questions of history and heritage require answers. Let him return and explain it himself._

_If he is still alive, that is, _said a small voice in the back of his head.

~~~{###}~~~

"How many men guard the White Tower?" the man asked, examining his knife blade curiously.

"I know not. I do not pay attention to such things." Legolas coughed, sending a stab of pain to his broken ribs.

"Let me ask something easier, then: at what hour do the city gates close, nowadays?" he queried, quite serenely.

"If I knew, though I do not, I would not for all the gold in the world tell you." Legolas replied breathlessly.

"You may struggle now, Elf, but soon you will tire. I can do this forever." he stated confidently. "Soon enough you will give in. You value your own life too highly to allow this to go on."

Legolas turned his gaze upwards, his expression cold but determined.

"What if I am not fighting for myself?" he uttered quietly.

The man chuckled darkly, a vile sound that echoed off the cave walls ominously.

"Ah, so you are being _noble_." he spat with contempt. "You are protecting your comrade. I understand this loyalty. But tell me this, Elf - if he were in your position, would he do the same?"

Legolas writhed, his discomfort only partially attributed to his physical injuries.

"Well? Would he?" he taunted, circling the Elf like a shark closing in on its prey. "Would he allow himself to be _tortured_ to protect you? I think not."

Legolas frowned, his face flickering with pain. But this time, it did not issue from his wounds - his chest constricted in agony as he recalled, once more, his friend's betrayal of him and his kindred, the insults that had slipped so casually off his tongue-

"It matters not." he blurted out, shutting off his memories with haste. "My loyalties to the King are strong, regardless of what you may inflict on me."

His captor laughed lowly. "Nonetheless, it is not hard, I should think, to give me answers. Dear Aragorn would understand - after all, I gave you little choice in the matter."

The man gently nudged Legolas' back with his boot, pushing him onto his stomach. His chest and shoulder exploded in such fiery pain that he had bite his tongue to stop himself crying out. He wished he would pass out again, to let unconsciousness abate his wounds for a while. Or, better still, he wished for death, for surely it could not be worse than this...

"Well? What say you?" the man demanded harshly.

"You have taken me, bound me, _wounded _me, and now you expect my assistance?" Legolas returned, struggling upon each word. "Your plan is flawed."

The Elf could not see his captor's face, but he was sure that it was twisted into a scowl. Suddenly he felt a hand grip his hair tightly, using it to haul him agonizingly onto his knees, and he realized with a jolt that he had gone too far. He heard the chink of metal from behind him as the man unsheathed his sword. Legolas closed his eyes, heart thudding in his chest.

_Ae Adar nín i vi Menel, no aer i eneth lín, _he prayed hurriedly. _Tolo i arnad lín,_

_caro den i innas lin-_

He heard the blade whip through the air and shrank in anticipation of the strike, but was shocked as it simply brushed by his feet, neatly cutting the bonds between them. Legolas peered up at him through the strands of hair hanging dank on either side of his face, his face blank in bewilderment.

"Stand up." he barked shortly.

Legolas frowned, his blue eyes oceans of pained confusion.

"STAND!" he roared.

The Elf clumsily shifted his feet into action, every cell of his body on fire as he stood, propping himself up on his less-painful leg. Every muscle strained to support his weight, and he felt himself pale.

"You have nerve, Elf." the man declared, striding back a few paces before pivoting to face him. "And for that, you may have this bargain. Walk to me, and you may go free."

Legolas shook his head in puzzlement, quietly thinking that he could barely stay standing, let alone walk. "I do not-"

"The bargain is simple! Reach me, and I will release you." the man stated, smiling with false warmth.

"Why?" he asked bluntly.

His captor shrugged. "A test, I suppose, of your strength. Of your worth."

"What if I refuse?"

"Then you lose your chance to escape." the man returned smoothly. "But it would be a shame, would it not, to pass on such an opportunity, after all the energy you have out into struggling against me?"

"And if I should reach you, why should I trust a madman to keep his end of the bargain?" Legolas asked tiredly.

"My word is honorable - you will go free." the man assured him. "Besides... have you any choice but to trust me?"

The Elf sighed inwardly. "Of course not. That is the purpose of your bargain, is it not? Tempt me with escape, and make me trust the word of one I never should."

The man made no reply, and Legolas took the moment to rushingly think, his mind drowsy and washed over with pain.

_Do I refuse the offer, and be made a coward, _he thought. _Or partake, and be made a fool?_

"Make your move, Elf." the man snarled impatiently.

Glancing at the short distance between them, Legolas made a final decision. His breathing ragged, he forced his limbs into movement, finding even a single step almost impossible. His usual grace and litheness turned to shakiness and clumsy movements as he stumbled forwards unsteadily, taking a few small paces and struggling to keep his balance. Head rushing dizzily, he faltered - his knees finally gave out, and, hands tied as they were, there was nothing to break his fall as he slammed into the hard, jagged rock.

The man laughing coldly whilst his victim flexed in agony, a small trickle of blood flowing from his forehead from where it had hit the ground. His taunts came soon after, voice laden with smug sarcasm.

"Legolas, the so-called _prince _of Mirkwood, shakier on his feet than a newborn foal!"

In spite of his considerable pain, the Elf's cheeks flushed red in embarrassment. He was perfectly aware that this had been the plan, that his captor had known he could never reach him, and yet he burned still with shame. He had never felt more horrified at himself, that he could not even gather the strength to walk a few strides and snatch away his freedom when it was offered so easily.

"How far have you fallen, Legolas? How easily defeated are you?" his captor hissed antagonistically. "Once a warrior, a comrade-in-arms, a diplomat - but what are you now? What have you become?"

Legolas fought back tears as the footsteps echoed away into the distance. It seemed to him as he lay there, bound, humiliated, and every inch of him throbbing with pain, that the cold had just gotten colder, the darkness, darker.

~~~{###}~~~

Aragorn rode like the flaming tendrils of Morgoth himself were behind him. The White Mountains drew nearer and nearer, and the king took a moment to assess his surrounds - it was not a part of the country he was particularly familiar with.

They seemed impossibly colossal, and towered over the land, soaring further skyward as he neared their base. Even now, when spring was nearly passed and summer begun, the peaks were capped with snow. No pass led through the steep terrain, and there was no cease in the solid, rocky barrier - a feature that usually Aragorn would observe happily, seeing as it guarded Gondor from northerly invasion. Today, though, it marked what would undoubtedly be a long and hazardous ascent towards the summit.

Aragorn slowed the horse's strides enough to regain sight of the tracks he was tracing, and followed their path towards the foot of the mountains. High, high above, he could see a large, natural platform of rock, as though a lookout had been chiseled into the mountain face.

_There could scarcely be a more opportune location for a lair, _Aragorn thought somewhat despairingly. _Nearly impossible to penetrate, and high enough to act as a viewing platform for the surrounding lands. Not to mention how hidden away it lies - I could count on one hand the amount of men that have passed this way in the last age! _

Aragorn rode with a clenched jaw, his fists curled tensely around the reins.

Soon the ground steepened, going in a few short minutes from flat to sloped to so steep that his horse could barely navigate it. When the last of the grass disappeared to rock beneath the creature's hooves, and he could go no further without climbing, he dismounted. Tucking the reins tightly into a crevice to ensure his horse was there when he returned, Aragorn turned to the mountain. With a slight frown, he lifted his boot and propelled himself upwards onto the rocky face.

The climb was slow and laboring. On occasion, he would find a stretch of stone that he could walked on, as though they were steps. In other parts, he scrambled for footholds and handgrips, creeping up the stone face like an awkward spider. Pebbles clattered threateningly under his boots, and his weight sent small chips of stone plummeting downwards - as though he needed any reminder that the only thing below to break his fall was _more rock._

Aragorn suddenly hissed in pain, his hand snagging on a jagged shard of rock and drawing a thin stream of blood. He retracted instinctively, almost losing his balance in the process. His stomach fell as his hand scrambled to regain purchase on the unforgiving stone, his cut not aiding in the least as his fingers became slippery with crimson liquid. His heart thudded loudly in his throat, a cold, plummeting fear overcoming him -

He managed to grasp a small crevice, taking the strain off his legs and other arm and allowing him to regain his balance. He took a moment to steady his breathing, before hauling himself up onto the rocky ledge, heart still pounding fast.

Aragorn clenched his eyes shut, wiping the blood off his hand and onto his shirt absentmindedly. He took another few deep, steadying breaths, before getting to his feet again.

From here, the climb was easier - not so much a cliff face, but rather just steep, rocky terrain. Sharp points jutted out and snagged on his cloak. The air was laden with chill that swirled and pierced his lungs icily, and the stone was cold to touch. The wind whirred dangerously, not strong enough to throw him off the side of the mountain, perhaps, but strong enough to threaten it.

When it seemed he had been walking for an age, Aragorn glanced upwards and sighed audibly in relief. Not far up from him was a large, flat rocky clearing, and behind, leading into the mountain, a cave. He did not doubt that this was the right place.

Aragorn quickened his pace a few strides, before stopping sharply. A flicker of movement above him caught his eye, and he jumped hastily behind a rock formation. Peering around the boulder, his eyes widened - a man, appearing to be an archer, by his weaponry, was scouting the stone clearing.

Frowning slightly, Aragorn ran a quick plan through his head. He did not want to alert anyone to his presence, so he would have to be swift and silent. He drew his sword and went to run, but suddenly felt a cold blade press against his throat.

"Move, and you are dead." a voice stated flatly. "Drop the weapon."

Aragorn let go of the sword, letting it clatter loudly onto the stone, and raised his hands slowly.


	17. Chapter 17) A Song in the Dark

CHAPTER 17. A SONG IN THE DARK

Aragorn's heart pounded hard and fast, threatening to burst through his chest. The soldier jutted his sword forward threateningly, his face displaying an impeccably clear message - _one false move and you will find yourself impaled on the end of this blade. _Aragorn shot a hasty glance behind him, but there was no means of escape – just a pace or two backwards was the ledge, below which hung a fall of several hundred feet and a landing place of unforgiving stone.

"Who are you?" asked the soldier gruffly, bringing his attention away from the cliff face. Aragorn made no reply but to stare at him coldly, and the man snarled in annoyance.He rolled his eyes impatiently, and waved his sword threateningly, gesturing towards the cave. Aragorn reluctantly obeyed the obvious command, feeling the cold steel of the blade rest against his back. He passed into the shadows, the jagged rocky walls becoming increasingly difficult to see as they progressed inwards. Aragorn slowed his pace slightly, stumbling in the pitch-blackness.

"Keep going." the man snapped impatiently, jutting the sword against his back again in warning.

_He is taking me to his superior, _Aragorn realized suddenly. _The one who is behind all of this madness – the one who took Legolas._

After a few more moments of stumbling through the darkness, the tunnel widened into a large chamber. It was lit by several torches along the wall, the flames of which danced on the cave walls. Several men were scattered around the space, using large rocks as makeshift seats or else standing, arms crossed. They were all armed, some with swords, or else bows, and were clothed in an assortment of armours and battle wear. They murmured conversations in a jumble of languages Aragorn couldn't understand.

In the centre of the room stood a man that Aragorn immediately took as their leader - though his clothes and weapons were much the same as the others, his stance was wide in the way of authority, and the air with which he surveyed his men implied a sense of superiority. The man turned at the sound of their footsteps, eyes widening upon Aragorn.

Aragorn frowned slightly as he caught sight of the face. His features were undoubtedly of Gondor – sandy hair, sun-worn skin, and grey eyes (albeit, his were more cold than was usual) - but it seemed in his subconscious that there was something even more familiar about him. His mind was a whirlwind, though, and he couldn't even determine whether or not he had met the man before.

"I found this one lurking about outside the entranceway." the soldier explained, disrupting Aragorn's thoughts and pushing forwards suddenly so that he stumbled. "He must be a scout, like the last one!"

"Why is he unbound, then?" the man asked snidely, as if determined to be unimpressed by this new prisoner, and the soldier flushed red as he hastened to tie Aragorn's hands. The king resisted for a moment, but the soldier had the upper hand and managed to twist his arms back, whilst his superior stepped forward and tied them together, pulling the rope tight with a poorly repressed smile.

"Put him in one of the caverns. I'll deal with him later." he said dismissively. The soldier gave Aragorn's arm a vicious tug, straining his shoulder painfully. Aragorn snarled angrily as he pulled him away, progressing further into the dark tunnel.

"I will make you regret ever laying hand against me, you mark my words." Aragorn threatened proudly in a low growl, trying in vain to shake off the man's firm grip. The only response he got was a short laugh, and then silence again as they continued through the deepening blackness, Aragorn stumbling, the solider pacing surefootedly. A labyrinth-like network of tunnels spanned out to the sides of the passageway; hundreds of winding paths lined the walls. Aragorn tried for a while to take note of the tunnels so that he could find his way back out, but the darkness and the speed of their pace made it impossible.

After a minute or two, when all sign of sunlight was thoroughly gone and the air grown chill, the soldier stopped and turned towards one of the side chambers. He gave Aragorn a sharp shove in the back and, unprepared for the assault, he fell forwards, landing on the jagged stone with a cry of surprise. Before he had time to register or recover, the man had slipped a rope around his ankles, tying the knot tight with unfumbling fingers, even in the dark. Aragorn heard the footsteps fade off into the distance, leaving him disorientated and alone in the cold, black space.

Aragorn crawled a few paces awkwardly, before sitting upright, eyes straining against the dark. The sidetunnel he had been pushed into was large, empty and cold, and the winds whistled up from the depths of the mountain, chilling him to the bone – he pulled his cloak around his shoulders with a slight shiver. The walls and floor were jagged, and the roof high enough for even someone so tall as himself to stand.

Aragorn carefully stood up, trying to maintain his balance with his feet bound together. He shuffled forwards awkwardly, barely able to move his feet an inch. He steadied himself and attempted a bounding jump forwards, but upon landing on the vastly uneven floor wobbled and fell.

_Well, I'm going to need a new plan, _Aragorn thought dully.

~~~{###}~~~

Legolas shivered, recoiling in the darkness. It took him a moment to register what prompted the gesture – _cold_. He felt the chill to his very bones, his skin prickling. His wounds no longer burnt fierily, but hummed with a dull, throbbing pain that engulfed his whole body. His head spun dizzily when he tried to sit up, and his thoughts were a haze.

_I have fought to hard to lose heart now, _he thought desperately.

Suddenly words began to blossom on his lips without his bidding, and he began to sing, quite unsure of why, or what had prompted him.

"_In western lands beneath the Sun  
the flowers may rise in Spring,  
the trees may bud, the waters run,  
the merry finches sing."_

It was not an Elven tune, of that he was certain – he had learnt it from the Hobbits during the Quest, perhaps. The Halflings had often sung to keep up their spirits during the journey, much to his amusement and confusion at the time. Yet, here in the dark and without sign of hope, the idea suddenly made sense. His clear voice echoed off the cavern walls, as cool and melodic as the call of a bird.

_"Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night  
and swaying beeches bear  
the Elven-stars as jewels white  
amid their branching hair."_

There was the sound of raised voices a short way down the tunnel, and hurried footsteps as the guards sped to investigate the source of the music, but Legolas took no heed of them. The song flowed off his lips as naturally as breathing – an impulse.

"_Though here at journey's end I lie  
in darkness buried deep,  
beyond all towers strong and high,  
beyond all mountains steep,  
above all shadows rides the Sun  
and Stars for ever dwell:  
I will not say the Day is done,  
nor bid the Stars farewell__."_

The last notes drifted off into the echoing abyss just as the guard reached him, grabbing his shirt with a clenched fist and hauling him brutally to his feet.

"What do you think you're doing?!" the man hissed angrily. "Do you want to awaken the entire mountain?"

He let go of the Elf's shirt and let him tumble to the ground, slamming into the hard rock.

"Silence." he whispered threateningly, delivering him a sharp kick to his broken ribs that made him cry out in agony.

The guard walked away as the pain won over, the darkness clouding his eyes once more as he drifted out of consciousness.

~~~{###}~~~

Aragorn was panting to regain his breath, face flat on the cold stone, when he heard the sound echoing from somewhere in the distance.

"_Though here at journey's end I lie  
in darkness buried deep…"_

He recognized the voice in an instant, and his heart leapt – Legolas was here, and alive!

Aragorn quickly sat up and began to crawl, not even noticing the stone slashing open his knees in his haste. As he reached the entrance to the cavern, he paused again to listen:

"… _I will not say the Day is done,  
nor bid the Stars farewell__."_

Aragorn shuffled into the main passageway, hardly daring to believe his luck, when the sound of Legolas crying out in pain resonated through the caves. His blood ran cold and he froze, unable to move as his ears strained to hear the exchange. After a few moments, when no more sound came travelling down the tunnels, he began to crawl with renewed urgency.

_I am coming, Legolas._


	18. Chapter 18) Reunited

CHAPTER 18) REUNITED

Aragorn crawled as quickly as he could manage with hands and ankles bound, tearing the fabric and skin on his knees to shreds with utter disregard. He paused for a second in the opening of every side chamber or tunnel, allowing his eyes to survey the darkness for signs of movement before moving on.

He hastened to an opening on the right, peering into the open, black space with desperation. Suddenly his eyes closed in on a shape on the cavern floor, several paces away. He squinted and crawled forwards slightly, his eyes widening as he realized what the mass was. Shuffling closer, Aragorn caught sight of a single, defining feature, and gave a strangled cry - a long strand of silver-blond hair, glinting faintly in the darkness.

"Legolas!" he cried out joyfully. "Never before have I been so glad to see you, _mellon nin!"_

The Elf made no reply and moved not an inch, and Aragorn's stomach fell like a rock.

He scrambled forwards, reaching out with his bound hands, pulling the Elf onto his back –

His shirt hung in bloody tatters, his tunic all but cast off his slim shoulders. A deep gash tore through his shoulder, staining the surrounding skin with deep crimson liquid. His chest looked badly battered, with fresh, blueish bruises beginning to blossom on his skin. His cheeks were deathly pale, a thin trail of blood trickling from his forehead, his hair hanging dankly about his face.

"Legolas." Aragorn croaked, his throat so thick he could barely form the words. "Legolas!"

He gently prodded the Elf's side, cautious to avoid the numerous cuts and abrasions lacing his arms. He met no reply.

With a horrified cry, he shook the lifeless body desperately.

"Legolas, wake up, _mellon nin, _please." he sobbed, his vision distorted by tears.

He shifted not an inch, and Aragorn cried out as though in physical pain, the grief tearing at his chest. He felt his stomach lurch sickeningly, his eyes burning with tears, his chest so tight he could barely draw breath. He gave a low, racking sob, his whole body shaking like a leaf.

_I have failed him. By my actions was he captured, and now I have failed him, the one man who had never failed me, _he thought, head rushing dizzyingly.

"I am so sorry, Legolas." Aragorn whispered, his head bowed over the body of his dearest friend, his jolting, shuddering sobs racking both his frame and the one he almost cradled.

Suddenly the Elf gave a small cough and shuddered, his chest moving almost indiscernibly in short, laboured breaths. His slender fingers closed around the fabric of Aragorn's tunic, gripping it in a tight fist.

Aragorn called out his name in euphoric surprise, heart leaping.

The reply took a moment, and when it came, it was in barely more than an agonized whisper: "Aragorn? Is it you?"

"It is, _mellon nin,_ it is." Aragorn replied, a broad smile appearing on his face that was far beyond his control. He laughed, eyes still swimming with tears. "I am here."

"How can it be?" Legolas asked, his words slow and painfully forced. A second later he amended himself. "You should not be here."

"Doing things I shouldn't seems a habit of mine, but coming here may be the one exception." Aragorn replied. "But this talk can come later – your wounds are of far more importance at the moment. I mean no disrespect when I say you look a mess. Are you in pain?"

"Pain? No, I am fine." came the poorly-executed lie, followed by a short, forceful cough.

"Legolas," Aragorn said warningly. "What did they do to you?"

His voice faltered slightly midsentence.

"They… hurt me." Legolas replied weakly, eyes shifting out of focus slightly, as though he were about to faint at the thought. "But it is of no matter. Aragorn, quickly, we must go. Before he returns."

"Legolas." Aragorn said sternly, before softening his tone. "Legolas, I need to know what we are up against. What did they do to you?"

"Gimli and I were in Fangorn, and they came from every angle. I tried to fight, but there were many, many of them." Legolas answered in his strained, quiet tone. "I ordered Gimli to take the horse, and he managed to escape-"

"Which was foolish, as it left you behind with no means to get away!" Aragorn interjected angrily.

"Better one of us be saved than none." Legolas replied smoothly, before continuing. "I fought, but a blade caught my shoulder, and I fell. When I awoke, I was here. They bound me, and then their captain came-"

"The man who looks of Gondor?" Aragorn asked sharply.

"Yes. He seems to be their leader." Legolas answered painfully. "He wanted answers. Aragorn, he wishes to plan a siege against the White Tower."

Aragorn's stomach dropped sickeningly as he thought of Arwen, asleep in their chambers, or of Faramir, discussing matters with foreign leaders.

"It is alright, my friend. I do not blame you for anything you said." Aragorn managed to say weakly.

"Do you doubt my honour so quickly?" Legolas fired up, sounding genuinely angry. "I held my tongue, and told him nothing but the fact that I would personally see to his death if he lay one hand on you or your people!"

Aragorn sat back, looking stunned, before realization dawned on him.

"So that is where the other wounds are from – the bruises, the cuts. They interrogated you." Aragorn said slowly, feeling sick at the thought. "They _tortured_ you."

Legolas didn't reply, but shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"Were you not already injured, I would batter you myself!" Aragorn snapped. "Why, why would you not answer him?"

"To keep you safe." Legolas replied shortly. "I have always tried to do so, and I will not stop, even if a time comes to pass when you no longer wish for my companionship."

"When I no longer… What?" Aragorn muttered, frowning. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You made it clear – quite clear – that you did not value our friendship enough to grant me the care of Ithilien. I assumed that you had… Moved on, I suppose, from the bond we once held." Legolas explained, measuring his words cautiously. "We Elves may endure unchanging on through the centuries, but I am aware that humans are more… temperamental. More subject to shifts of opinion. I do not hold you accountable for the ways of your people, of course, but-"

"Stop." Aragorn interrupted blunty. "Allow me to confirm this fact: you think that my allegiance, nay, my_ friendship_, with you, has faded?"

Legolas' eyes shifted sadly. "Yes, I suppose that best summarizes it."

"I… I am horrified to think that my actions gave this impression." Aragorn said, shaking his head in confusion. "I knew you were disappointed, of course, but I had not realized the depth of hurt I had inflicted."

"It is no matter, really." Legolas dismissed quickly.

"It is, though, _mellon nin_." Aragorn disagreed. "To deny you was foolish, extremely foolish-"

"You were merely looking after your own people, Aragorn. I understand – truly, I do." Legolas said tiredly.

"Do you wish to know why I chose to deny your claim?" Aragorn asked softly. "Because I believed, in my heart, that our bond was closer than to be shaken by any such matters. I deemed it such that we could disagree on things of even such magnitude, and still be as brothers. I thought our friendship above any quarrels of race or land or war. I hoped – nay, assumed – that you thought the same. I beg for you to forgive me."

His eyes searched Legolas' face pleadingly, and the Elf smiled tearily.

"You are forgiven, Aragorn, always and completely forgiven." he said warmly. "Of course I feel the same – or, rather, should have. It seems I have lapsed in judgement to think-"

"Do not dare apologize to me. It is I who has done wrong." Aragorn said shortly. "Now, let us flee this place whilst we are able."

"Are you bound also?" Legolas asked in concern.

"Aye, I am; my bonds are tight, but these rocks are jagged enough to cut them, I think." Aragorn said quickly, beginning to rub the rope against the sharp cave floor.

Several tense, uncomfortable minutes passed, until finally the last few threads severed through and slipped off his wrists. Aragorn hastened to untie his ankles, before attending to Legolas' bonds. As the ropes came away from the Elf's wrists, the raw, bloodied skin underneath was revealed, and Aragorn fought to repress a hiss at the thought of the desperation that must have led to such rash actions as tearing at one's own wrists for means of escape. Legolas, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to the pain, or else so accustomed to it that it no longer bothered him.

"Aragorn, you go on. I will catch up in a moment." he requested.

'Absolutely not." Aragorn replied immediately. "If we split up, we'll never find each other in this darkness."

"You have to leave me here and escape by yourself." Legolas pleaded. "Aragorn, I do not know if I can walk. I will only slow you down."

"You think I came all this way to simply_ leave you behind?_ We leave this place together, or not at all." Aragorn stated firmly, carefully reaching under the Elf's arms and pulling him to his feet. Legolas' face was twisted with the effort of trying to keep his legs from giving out beneath him, but even so, most of his weight was held by Aragorn. Legolas took a shaky step forwards, poorly hiding a pained flinch as he shifted his weight in his stride. Aragorn made a soft, reassuring noise, patiently allowing the Elf to regain his balance and composure before starting off again.

In this manner they made their way through the darkness and up the main passageway, taking a few steps at a time, and then stopping whilst Legolas caught his breath. Injuries aside, he seemed, in general, _weakened. _He had looked exhausted before they had even begun to walk, and Aragorn doubted he would have been able to sleep through the pain of his wounds. Leaning on him for support, Aragorn couldn't help but notice that the Elf's usually slender frame seemed even more so – it occurred to him that Legolas probably hadn't eaten in several days. The fact that he was both sleep-deprived and famished, combined with the amount of blood he had lost, made Aragorn marvel that he could even remain conscious.

"Are you fine to go on, Legolas?" Aragorn asked gently, brow furrowed in concern as the Elf drew in forced, laboured breaths. He replied with a weak smile and a nod, and took a shaky but definite step.

In the darkness, it was impossible to calculate the time – they could have been walking for just a few minutes or several hours, Aragorn had no clue – but eventually the weakest strands of torchlight and the almost indiscernible murmur of conversation told Aragorn that he was nearing the main chamber.

Aragorn stopped and gently lowered Legolas to the ground. Too weak to protest physically, he voiced his objections in dull, muted cries.

"Ssh, quiet! There are men nearby." Aragorn explained in a whisper. "I will take care of them, and then return to get you."

"I want to fight." Legolas argued stubbornly.

"I mean you no offence, but it would do more harm than good for you to fight alongside me." Aragorn stated bluntly. "I would be so busy ensuring you were alright that I'd easily be struck down in my distraction. No, you stay here."

Legolas took the news poorly, his eyes falling to rest downcast, and, if Aragorn's eyes did not deceive him, a slight blush appearing on the fair skin of his cheeks. Aragorn knew that he burnt with guilt, and likely shame, at having to stay behind – having lived with the Elves for much of his youth, he knew that they were proud and noble fighters, and none more so than Legolas.

"There is no dishonour in staying behind." Aragorn said soothingly. "Perceive yourself rather as… a second line of defence. If you hear me being bludgeoned to death, by all means, I encourage you to come to my aid!"

The corners of Legolas' mouth twitched into a very slight smile, but his eyes were full of concern.

"Have caution, Aragorn." he begged in the way of farewell.

"Don't I always?" he replied in a whisper, hurrying off towards the light with silent footsteps.


End file.
